"Gemmen," he remarked with condescension, "dis lady am degaged ter
me durin' de 'freshments period,'" and he held out his arm in such
a way that the massive ring glittered almost under Suky's nose.
The magnet drew. His arm was taken in spite of the protests of the
enamored swains.
"Permit me de suggestation," continued Jeff, "dat ter a lady ob
yer 'finement, dis place am not fit ter breve in. Wha's mo', I
doan 'cline ter hab dese yer common niggahs a-whisperin' an' a-
pintin' an' a-'jecturin' about us. Lemme yet yer a seat under de
lite ob de risin' moon. De dusk'll obscuate yer loveleness so I'se
dar' tell all de news."
Suky, mystified and expectant, but complacent over another
conquest, made no objections to these whispered "suggestations,"
and was led to a seat under the shadow of a tree. A chorus of not
very flattering remarks broke out, ceasing as suddenly when Jeff
returned for a portion of the cake and cider.
"Mister Wobbles, yer's prettin' on high de airs ter-night," Suky
remarked, with an interrogation point in her voice.
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