The Ten-foot Chain Part 9

"I sides wid Figger Bush," Mustard Prophet grinned. "I been livin' off an' on wid Hopey fer twenty year, an' dat gal is busted stovewood over my head off an' on plenty of times, but I don't bear her no grouch. She kin always make peace by givin' me some hot biskits an' a few sirup."

"You four n.i.g.g.e.rs talk too much," Flournoy grinned. "I want you to get busy and decorate that Shoofly Church and pull the biggest Tickfall church wedding ever seen in the social sets of our colored circles. I'll pay for everything."

"Us fo' n.i.g.g.e.rs will git our wifes an' pull some kind of nice stunt ourselfs, too, Ma.r.s.e John," Vinegar howled. "We'll fix up a good send-off fer 'em."

At seven o'clock that evening the Flournoy automobile conveyed the happy pair to the Shoofly Church. The Rev. Vinegar Atts proceeded with the ceremony until the bride sported a new ring and the two were p.r.o.nounced man and wife with the solemn admonition:

"Whom G.o.d hath joined together, let not man put asunder!"

Thereupon Sheriff Flournoy stepped forward and with the ease of long practice slipped a manacle upon the right wrist of the bride and another upon the left wrist of the groom and snapped the handcuffs shut.

Figger Bush stooped and lifted a long bottle from a bucket of ice. There was a loud pop, the cork struck against the ceiling, ricochetted around the walls of the room and caused a commotion by falling on Vinegar's bald head. Figger advanced with a tray containing three gla.s.ses and the sheriff toasted the bride and groom.

The ten-foot chain rattled as the bride raised her manacled hand to drink.

When they marched out of the church the entire congregation formed a procession and accompanied them to their cabin on the Coolie Bayou. They noticed that Plaster Sickety picked up the chain and wrapped a turn around his bride's neck and one about his own, thus shortening the bond and bringing them close together. They clamped their arms around each other's waists, and plodded solemnly through the deep dust of the crooked highway.

"Dat n.i.g.g.e.r cain't park his wife like a new automobile an' walk off an'

leave her," Vinegar chuckled.

"He ain't actin' anxious to git away--now," Hitch rumbled pessimistically.

"Not yit, but soon," Vinegar agreed.

Approaching the cabin, Plaster Sickety's voice broke into exultant song, and through the negro's wonderful gift of improvisation, he produced this neat bit:

"Dar's a Pearline pearl of price untold, An' dat Pearline pearl cain't be bought wid gold; An' dat Pearline pearl am good to see, Fer dat Pearline pearl b'longs to me!"

"Listen to dat fool!" Hitch Diamond chuckled. "He's singin' like a little black angel whut had swiped de pearliest pearl offen de pearly gates!"

The bride and groom entered their cabin and softly closed the door.

Good night!

III.

"Looky here, Pearline, I ain't used to totin' dis ole steel band on my wrist an' it hurts my feelin's," Plaster complained as he sat at the breakfast-table before a meal which had been left on the door-step a few minutes before by Hitch Diamond.

"Don't begin to howl an' pull back like a dawg tied under a wagin, Plaster," Pearline urged prettily, as she helped herself to liberal portions of the breakfast prepared in Sheriff Flournoy's kitchen. "You won't kick about wearin' it as long as you loves me, will you?"

"No'm," Plaster said, as he lifted the chain to a more comfortable place upon the dining-table. "But I sh.o.r.e wish dat white man hadn't choosed such a heavy chain."

"Dis chain ain't heavy, Plaster," Pearline protested. "You hadn't oughter talk dat way. Excusin' dat, I likes dis chain--it ties us to each yuther. Don't you like it?"

"Yes'm, I sh.o.r.e does."

"How come you complains about it fer?"

"I ain't got no lament, Pearline--dat is, I ain't mean it dat way."

The bridegroom filled his mouth with food and for the next ten minutes ate voraciously. One watching him would draw the inference that he was not eating to enjoy the food so much as to find some occupation for his mouth beside speech.

Pearline reached out with her free hand and toyed with the chain, twisting it about her fingers lovingly, a dreamy light in her coal-black eyes.

"Us had de biggest weddin' in cullud circles, Plaster," she murmured.

"I ain't no cullud circle," Plaster mumbled, his mouth full of food.

"But I reckin I got to run circles aroun' you 'slong as dis ole chain stays on. Don't rattle dat chain so loud, Pearly! Gosh! It makes a heap of racket fer its little size."

"You jes' now said it wus a big, heavy chain fer its size," his wife reminded him in a sweetly argumentative tone.

"Yes'm, it am--dis chain is bofe little an' big--fer its size," the groom amended hastily. "Stop talkin' about dis chain!"

"You started dis talk," she reminded him reproachfully. "You said it hurted yo' wrist."

There was a loud knock upon the door. Plaster sprang up to answer. The chain jerked at his wrist.

"Good gawsh!" he snorted. "Come to de door wid me, honey, so I kin open up."

"I cain't, Plaster," the bride exclaimed in a panic. "I ain't dressed fer comp'ny dis soon in de mawnin."

"You's got on all de clothes you owns," the groom reminded her.

"Suttinly, but I ain't got no white powder on my black nose," she giggled. "Come back in de nex' room an' let me fresh up befo' we opens de door."

"I stayed in dar a plum' hour while you wus freshin' up fer yo'

viteles," Plaster grumbled.

"Don't git grumped up, Plaster," Pearline urged. "You ack like yo' love is commenced to wilt aroun' de edges."

Meekly the man followed her to the bedroom and stood for fifteen minutes while the bride primped her hair, powdered her nose, adjusted her collar, fiddled with her belt, put pins in her shirt-waist, took them out and deposited them in her mouth, put them back into her waist, turned around and looked at herself in the mirror, hunted for a fresh handkerchief and could not find it, located it at last in the bosom of her waist, wondered where she had left her chewing-gum, found it on top of the box of face-powder, and finally said:

"Come on--less hurry up. Dat comp'ny will git tired waitin' fer us!"

"Dat comp'ny is gone done it," Plaster sighed. "I peeped through de crack in de door an' seed 'em. Hitch Diamond knocked fo' times, den opened de door an' picked up dem breakfast-dishes an' trod out."

"Dat's too bad," Pearline remarked with no interest whatever. She was looking at herself in the mirror. "I'd like to seen Hitchie. He use to be one of my ole sweethearts."

"Come out an' set under de tree wid me an' mebbe dat ole sweetheart of yourn will come back," Plaster suggested.

"I don't like to git out in de sunshine," the girl replied. "Dar's too much glare."

"Too much--which?" Plaster asked.

"Glare."

"Yes'm."