“Did you he’p him fix up de bill?”
Tom cursed himself for making that stupid blunder, and tried
to rectify it by saying he remember now that it WAS at noon
Monday that the man gave him the bill. Roxana said:
“You’s lyin’ ag’in, sho.” Then she straightened up and raised her finger:
“Now den! I’s gwine to ask you a question, en I wants to
know how you’s gwine to git aroun’ it. You knowed he ‘uz arter me;
en if you run off, ‘stid o’ stayin’ here to he’p him,
he’d know dey ‘uz somethin’ wrong ’bout dis business, en den he would
inquire ’bout you, en dat would take him to yo’ uncle, en yo’
uncle would read de bill en see dat you be’n sellin’ a free
nigger down de river, en you know HIM, I reckon! He’d t’ar up de
will en kick you outen de house. Now, den, you answer me dis
question: hain’t you tole dat man dat I would be sho’ to come here,
en den you would fix it so he could set a trap en ketch me?”
Tom recognized that neither lies nor arguments could help
him any longer–he was in a vise, with the screw turned on,
and out of it there was no budging. His face began to take on an
ugly look, and presently he said, with a snarl:
“Well, what could I do? You see, yourself, that I was in
his grip and couldn’t get out.”
Roxy scorched him with a scornful gaze awhile, then she said:
“What could you do? You could be Judas to yo’ own mother to
save yo’ wuthless hide! Would anybody b’lieve it?
No–a dog couldn’t! You is de lowdownest orneriest hound dat was ever
pup’d into dis worl’–en I’s ‘sponsible for it!”–and she spat on him.
He made no effort to resent this. Roxy reflected a moment,
then she said:
“Now I’ll tell you what you’s gwine to do. You’s gwine to
give dat man de money dat you’s got laid up, en make him wait
till you kin go to de judge en git de res’ en buy me free agin.”
“Thunder! What are you thinking of? Go and ask him for
three hundred dollars and odd? What would I tell him I want it
for, pray?”
Roxy’s answer was delivered in a serene and level voice.
“You’ll tell him you’s sole me to pay yo’ gamblin’ debts en
dat you lied to me en was a villain, en dat I ‘quires you to git
dat money en buy me back ag’in.”
“Why, you’ve gone stark mad! He would tear the will to
shreads in a minute–don’t you know that?”
“Yes, I does.”
“Then you don’t believe I’m idiot enough to go to him, do you?”
“I don’t b’lieve nothin’ ’bout it–I KNOWS you’s a-goin’.
I knows it ‘ca’se you knows dat if you don’t raise dat money I’ll
go to him myself, en den he’ll sell YOU down de river, en you kin
see how you like it!”
Tom rose, trembling and excited, and there was an evil light in his eye.
He strode to the door and said he must get out of
this suffocating place for a moment and clear his brain in the
fresh air so that he could determine what to do.
The door wouldn’t open. Roxy smiled grimly, and said:
“I’s got the key, honey–set down. You needn’t cle’r up yo’
brain none to fine out what you gwine to do–_I_ knows what you’s
gwine to do.” Tom sat down and began to pass his hands through
his hair with a helpless and desperate air.
Roxy said, “Is dat man in dis house?”
Tom glanced up with a surprised expression, and asked:
“What gave you such an idea?”
“You done it. Gwine out to cle’r yo’ brain! In de fust
place you ain’t got none to cle’r, en in de second place yo’
ornery eye tole on you. You’s de lowdownest hound dat ever–
but I done told you dat befo’. Now den, dis is Friday.
You kin fix it up wid dat man, en tell him you’s gwine away to
git de res’ o’ de money, en dat you’ll be back wid it nex’ Tuesday,