"Git up from dar. Whut's you dreamin' erbout? No need ter ask, fer I knows. You's dreamin' right now 'bout kotchin' dem nines. I bounds you dun had er dream last night. I knows it by dat smile in de corner of your mouth. You kin smile outen both corners, ef you wants ter, but you don't git dis fifty cents I got."

"Old woman, I got er new dream."

"Whut's it erbout?"

"Dem nines."

"Look heah, old man, you take dat dream and yourself an' go out ter dat woodpile so's I kin git some breakfast. You's got er dream, an' I'se got fifty cents, an' we's gwine ter keep whut we has."

"I'se gwine ter tell you dis dream, ef I has ter pay you ter listen. Take dis dime."

"Make your story mighty short. I wonder ef dis heah dime is tainted money. Ef it is—— Well, I reckons it ain't."

"I wuz in er great big parlor, an' you an' de chillens wuz dar. An' it wuz in er great big house, an' you owns it."

"Wuz I bossin' it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Go on wid your dream, old man."

"Dat parlor wuz so fine dat when you sneezed you asked de pictures on de wall ter 'scuse you."

"Go on wid your dream, old man. We kin habe breakfast at dinner time."

"When you walked on de cyarpet you fairly bounced up an' down, an' when de chillens played on de payano you said: 'Dis ain't heaven, but we's heah, and dat's de same thing.' De spoons an' knives an' forks was silver, an'——"

"An' you's still got more ter say?"

"Yes, an' everything else wuz jes' like whut de white folks has."

"Whut bringed erbout all dat in your dream?"

"It wuz kotchin' de nines in de lottery."

"Is you sho you kin kotch 'em wid your eyes open?"

"Dey's bound ter come wid dat dream back of 'em."

"Old man, you's jes' fishin' 'round ter borrow dis fifty cents I'se got."

"Never lend money when you's got er soft snap like dis, old woman. Jes' 'vest your sixty cents in de nines, an' I'll do all de rest. De nines is comin', an' when dey comes we'll be jes' like de white folks."

"Heah's de sixty cents. I'll 'vest it."

"Old woman, de nines is yourn now. I'se goin' erway on foot, but I'se comin' back in one of dese kerridges on top. When you sees me comin', fling oil on de cabin an' burn it down. I'll be on top de kerridge in all my dignity. Habe de chillens out heah, an' let 'em be er singin' an' er dancin'. Keep your eye on de road, an' when you sees er little speck on de road, why dat's me. When I gits back we'll all git into de kerridge an' drive off ter er new home, and leave de cabin in ashes. Good-by, old woman, till I comes again."

The old man walked into the city to play the lottery. He thought fifty cents would be enough to invest in "de nines," so he bought ten cents' worth of bananas to give him strength to stand his new fortune.

"When I'se through eatin'," said he, "I'll play de nines."

He stood on a stone wall that overlooked a row of public carriages, so that as he ate he could be thinking of his ride back home. He did not think of the harm in the banana peels he dropped upon the wall, until he stepped upon one. He fell between two horses hitched to a carriage, was kicked by them, and left with both legs broken.

When the hackman discovered where the old man lived, and that he had fifty cents on his person, he had the injured man placed on top of the carriage, took a seat by his side, and drove him home.

The old man was now thinking of the bananas and the cabin, and his wife was thinking of "de nines an' de kerridge." She was watching the road. When the old man saw his wife in the road, and remembering his parting words to her, he cried out: "Old woman, old woman, don't burn de cabin."

She, recalling what her husband had told her, and thinking he was calling to her to hurry up and fulfill his instructions, called to the children: "Fling on de oil, chillens! Light er match an' let de cabin go up in smoke, fer your daddy is er-comin' on his own kerridge wid all his dignity on him. Look how proper his legs looks. Dey is straight out before him an' his arms is er-wavin'. He's kotched de nines, sho'. Sing an' dance, fer he's kotched de nines!" When the carriage stopped the old woman was still instructing the children in their work of destruction, and the cabin was ablaze.

"Old woman!" called the old man.

"Stop, chillens!" screamed she; "dey's sumpin' wrong wid your daddy's voice."

"Yes," replied he, "an' dey's sumpin' wrong wid my legs. I bought a dime's worth of bananas, an' dis man charge me fifty cents ter bring me home wid both legs broke, an' dere wuz no money left ter play de nines."

"Husban'," said she, "your little speech don't 'zackly 'splain matters."

The old man said nothing, but groaned in anguish.

There was no more talking, but much working over legs; and a bright day dream was banished to the limbo of things that are not.