All of a sudden, Hince hopped up on the windowsill from the porch side. Almost scared us to death. “Okay, girls, why you movin’ so slow? Get busy.” “When did we get a new mas’er?” Spicy said, bein’ sassy. “I’d be a poor mas’er to own the two of you,” he said with that devilish look in his eyes. “Clotee, you aine big as a chickadee. So, I wouldn’t sell you.” He turned to Spicy. “And you there, gal, with the dark eyes. I wouldn’t sell you either!” Then he added, “I’d just keep you for myself.” I could feel Spicy bein’ happy, even though she held her head down. “You like my brother-friend, don’t you?” I asked Spicy when Hince was gone. “He’s not so bad,” she say, and went back to scrubbin’ the floors. This time she was a-movin’ along faster, and hummin’. July 2 Hince brought Spicy a handful of flowers this mornin’.
