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Maudie said, trying to keep a breathless quality out of her voice.
"It's about the dance Saturday night," Davy said. "Remember?"
"Yes," Maudie admitted, "dimly."
"I just want you to know," Davy said, "that between now and the dance I'm going to look over the female talent in this town and drag the sweetest hag I can find."
"That matters little to me, Mr. Dillon," Maudie answered. "And I happen to know that every girl who isn't completely soggy is already dated for the dance."
"That's what you think," Davy snorted. "I'm gonna get me a girl that's but bonza!"
Maudie began to tremble. "Goodby, Mr. Dillon," she said, and hung up.
Pauly was hopping with excitement. She hugged Maudie and chortled. "I'm simply mad about the way you put him on ice with your freezy voice. He must have frost in his left ear."
Maudie slumped in a chair. Somehow, freezing Davy hadn't given her the slightest satisfaction. What if he could get himself another woman! This revolting thought made Maudie sit straight up. "Pauly!" she said, "I'm simply stricken. What if Davy does get a date for that dance?"
"What a gory thought!" Pauly exclaimed. "Oh, if there were only some way to get even with him."
Maudie sighed. "Honeychile, if ah was Scarlett O'Hara ah'd jes' up and shoot him."
Pauly's eyes widened. "Maudie," she said, "where did you get that marvy southern accent?"
Maudie smiled sadly, still thinking of Davy. "From mah po old granny," she said absently. "She was bohn and raised in Joe-jah."
"Maudie, dear!" Pauly screamed, jumping to her feet. "Your accent gives me the germ of a million dollar idea!" She danced around the room caroming off pieces of furniture. "Oh, we'll fix Davy Dillon," she shouted, hugging herself. "We'll really masticate him!"
DAULY stayed for dinner. Her gigA gles didn't aid Mr. Mason's digestion, but to Maudie, her precious girl friend's subtle hints about their plan to humiliate Davy Dillon were killing, but riotous. Maudie had never heard such a simply de-luscious plan and she was sure it would work.
It just had to work, she kept saying to herself all through the meal. But after dinner, when she and Pauly stood before the phone, she began to weaken. Pauly egged her on, though, and there was nothing to do but go through with it. Then she heard Davy's voice on the other end of the wire.
"Oh, Mistah Dillon," Maudie said with southern oomph. "You-all don't know me, but down home in Joe-jah I met a friend of yours named Tubby Washburn."
"Oh?" Davy said surprised. "Old Tubby?"
Maudie said a little silent prayer for Davy to believe her. Tubby Washburn was a friend of Davy's in an army camp near Atlanta. "How is Tubby?" he asked after a moment.
"He's jus' fine." Maudie said. "He knew ah was comin' up heah, and tol' me to look you up. Ah'm Honeycake Honeycut."
"You're who?" Davy asked.
"Honeycake Honeycut," Maudie
OCTOBER, 1942
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