Now, where'd I set that can?"
"Here 'tis, Mister Jodie."
I fell asleep, or something, for the next I heard was Papa
yelling at some man and a big blamming racket that sounded like
chairs falling over.
"You're a fool for thinking up such a notion! A plain fool! I
ain't gonna let you have money to set up no whiskey still! I
don't care who you threaten!"
I raised up to see who Papa was calling a fool.
It was Mister Ward!
"God damn! It wouldn't take no heap to get me my copper
cooker! Folks'd never suspicion nothin' neither, you bein' a
church-goin' man-Miss Nannie's husband, to boot. Ever'-body knows
she's purt nigh a walkin' saint!"
"Ward Lawson, don't call my wife's name when you're talking
whiskey, cussing every breath!"
"You tryin' to tell me how to talk? You goody-goody church
deacon!"
"You'd better go on home, Ward, and-"
"'Fore Chris'mas I could pay you back! Whiskey sells quick!
Good money in it! Why, I'd pay up what's done charged on your
store books! Think o' that!"
"I told you no, Ward! I mean it!"
Mister Ward hauled off and hit Papa so quick it knocked him
down! He straightened up and gave him back a big wallop!
"This ain't nothing to fight over, Ward!"
"I ain't gonna fight.
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