go hitch up a mule an' wagon an' fetch Doll back home.' Doll's a-lookin down the road fo you right dis minute, Cousin. Evy time Doll sees a dust a-risin e heart jumps inside e breast a-hopin dat dust is you."
Andrew's eyes widened and he stopped quite still to think it over. "Si May-e, you's a good 'oman. You got a good heart, even if you is de wickedest sinner Gawd ever made."
Mary grinned. "I ain' so wicked, Cousin, neither so good. You's a man an' I's a 'oman. You want to have all de pleasure, an' don' leave me an' Doll none. Dat ain' right, church or no church. Gawd ain' gwine be too hard on people what misses an' makes mistakes sometimes. You'll see. But you better go fetch Doll home. An', Cousin,"—Mary laughed, smiled right up into Andrew's eyes,—"if I was you, you know what I'd do?"
"What, gal?"
"I'd go beg Doll's pardon."
"Beg em pardon?"
"Dat is what I say."
"But I ain' done Doll no wrong."
"It don' matter who done right or wrong. If you would go humble like to Doll an' beg em pardon, it would do em an' you all-two good."
Andrew wasn't convinced, but Mary persisted.
