"Harry, love," exclaimed Mrs. Knowall to her husband, on his return one evening from the office, "I have b-been d-dreadfully insulted!"
"Insulted?" exclaimed Harry, love. "By whom?"
"B-by your m-mother," answered the young wife, bursting into tears.
"My mother, Flora? Nonsense! She's miles away!"
Flora dried her tears.
"I'll tell you all about it, Harry, love," she said. "A letter came to you this morning, addressed in your mother's writing, so, of course, I - I opened it."
"Of course," repeated Harry, love, dryly.
"It - it was written to you all the way through. Do you understand?"
"I understand. But where does the insult to you come in?"
"It - it came in the p-p-postscript," cried the wife, bursting into fresh floods of briny. "It s-said: 'P-P-P. S. - D-dear Flora, d-don't f-fail to give this l-letter to Harry. I w-want him to have it.'" "'Did you git 'em, boss?" he inquired eagerly.
"'Yes, here they are.'
"Mose looked at them ruefully, shaking his head. 'Ah'm po'ful sorry yo' got 'em, boss!'
"'Whats the matter? Has Easter gone back on you?'
"'It ain't dat, boss. Ah done changed mah min.' Ah'm gwine to mahry Sophie Coleman, dat freckled-faced yaller girl what works up to Mis' Mason's, for she sholy can cook!'
"Well, I'll try and have the name changed for you, but it will cost you fifty cents more.'
"Mose assented, somewhat dubiously, and the gentleman had the change made. Again he found Mose waiting for him.
"'Wouldn't change hit, boss, would he?'
"'Certainly he changed it. I simply had to pay him the fifty cents.'
"'Ah was hopin' he wouldn't do it. Mah min's made up to mahry Easter Johnson after all.'
"'You crazy nigger, you don't know what you do want. What made you change your mind again?'
"'Well, boss, Ah been thinkin' it over an' Ah jes' 'lowed dar wasn't fifty cents wuth ob diff'runce in dem two niggers.'"
