“Do you object to my having the headache on your time?” I says. “Is that it?” They were crossing the alley now, coming up from the show.
“There they come,” he says. “I reckon I better get up front.” He went on. It’s a curious thing how no matter what’s wrong with you, a man’ll tell you to have your teeth examined and a woman’ll tell you to get married. It always takes a man that never made much at anything to tell you how to run your business, though. Like these college professors without a whole pair of socks to their name, telling you how to make a million in ten years, and a woman that couldn’t even get a husband can always tell you how to raise a family.
Old man Job came up with the wagon. After a while he got through wrapping the lines around the whip socket.
“Well,” I says, “Was it a good show?”
“I aint been yit,” he says. “But I kin be arrested in dat tent tonight, dough.”
“Like hell you haven’t,” I says. “You’ve been away from here since three oclock. Mr. Earl was just back here looking for you.”
“I been tendin to my business,” he says. “ Mr. Earl knows whar I been.”
“You may can fool him,” I says. “I wont tell on you.”
“Den he’s de onliest man here I’d try to fool,” he says. “Whut I want to waste my time foolin a man whut I dont keer whether I sees him Sat’dy night er not? I wont try to fool you,” he says. “You too smart fer me. Yes, suh,” he says, looking busy as hell, putting five or six little packages into the wagon, “You’s too smart fer me. Aint a man in dis town kin keep up wid you fer smartness. You fools a man whut so smart he cant even keep up wid hisself,” he says, getting in the wagon and unwrapping the reins.