XLVI.
A PAIR OF SMUGGLERS
A short way farther within the wood they began to find flowers.
"Well – yes," said Fannie, musingly. "And pop consented to be treasurer
pro tem.
, but that was purely to help John. You know he fairly loves John. They all think it'll be so much easier to get Northern capital if they can show they're fully organized and all interests interested, you know." She stooped to pick a blossom. Barbara was bending in another direction. Two doves alighted on the ground near by and began to feed, and, except for size, the four would have seemed to an on-looker to have been very much of a kind.
Presently Fannie spoke again. "But I think pop's more and more distrustful of the thing every day. Barb, I reckon I'll tell you something."
Barbara crouched motionless. "Tell on."
"O – well, I asked pop yesterday what he thought of this Widewood scheme anyhow, and he said, 'There's money in it for some men.' 'Well, then, why can't you be one of them,' I asked him, and said he, 'It's not the kind of money I want, Fan.'"
"O pshaw, Fannie, men are always saying that about one another."
"Yes," murmured Fannie.
"Fan," said Barbara, tenderly, "do stop talking that way; you know I'm nearly as proud of your father as you are, don't you?"
"Yes, sweetheart."
"Well, then, go on, dear."
"I asked him if John was one," resumed Fannie, "and, said he, 'No, I shouldn't be a bit surprised to see John lose everything he and his mother have got.'"
Barbara flinched and was still again. "Has he told him that?"
"No, he says John's a very hard fellow to tell anything to. And, you know, Barb, that's so. I used to could tell him things, but I mustn't even try now."
"Why, Fan, you don't reckon Mr. Ravenel would care, do you?"
"Barb, I'll never know how much he cares about anything till it's too late. You can't try things on Jeff-Jack."
"I wish," softly said Barbara, "you wouldn't smile so much like him."
"Don't say anything against him, Barb, now or ever! I'm his and he's mine, and I wouldn't for both worlds have it any other way." But this time the speaker's smile was her own and very sweet. The two returned to the road.
"I asked pop," said Fannie, "where Jeff-Jack stands in this affair. He laughed and said, 'Jeff-Jack doesn't take stands, Fan, he lays low.'"
"Somebody ought to tell him."
"Tell who? Oh, John! – yes, I only wish to gracious some one would! But men don't do that sort of thing for one another. If a man takes such a risk as that for another you may know he loves him; and if a woman takes it you may know she doesn't."
"Fan," said Barbara, as they locked arms, "would it do for me to tell him?"
"No, my dear; in the first place you wouldn't get the chance. You can't begin to try to tell him till you've clean circumgyrated yourself away down into his confidence. It's a job, Barb, and a bigger one than you can possibly want. Now, if we only knew some girl of real sense who was foolish enough to be self-sacrificingly in love with him – but where are we going to find the combination?"
"And even if we could, you say no woman in love with a man would do it."
"There are exceptions, sweet Simplicity. What we want is an exception! Law, Barb, what a fine game a girl of the true stuff could play in such a case! Not having his love yet, but wanting it worse than life, and yet taking the biggest chance of losing it for the chance of saving him from the wreck of his career. O see!" They stopped on the bridge again to watch the sun's last beams gilding the waters, and Barbara asked,
"Do you believe the right kind of a girl would do that?"
"Why, if she could do it without getting found out, yes! Why, Law, I'd have done it for Jeff-Jack! You see, she might save him and win him, too; or she might win him even if she tried and failed to save him."
"But she might," said Barbara, gazing up the river, "she might even save him and still lose."
"Yes, for a man thinks he's doing well if he so much as forgives a deliverer – in petticoats. Yet still, Barb, wouldn't a real woman sooner lose by saving him, than sit still and let him lose for fear she might lose by trying to save him?"
"I don't know; you can't imagine mom-a doing such a thing, can you?"
"What! Cousin Rose? Why, of all women she was just the sort to have done it. Barb, you'd do it!" Fannie expected her friend to look at her with an expression of complimented surprise. But the surprise was her own when Barbara gave a faint start and bent lower over the parapet. The difference was very slight, as slight as the smile of fond suspicion that came into Fannie's face.
"Fannie" – still looking down into the gliding water – "how does your father think Mr. March is going to lose so much; is he afraid he'll be swindled?"
"I believe he is, Barb."
"And do you think" – the words came very softly and significantly – "that that makes it any special matter of mine that he should be warned?"
"Yes, sweetheart, I do."
"Then" – the speaker looked up with distressed resolve – "I must do what I can. Will you help me, or let me help you, rather?"
"Yes, either way, as far as I can." They moved on for a moment. Then Barbara stopped abruptly, looking much amused. "There's one risk you didn't count!"
"What's that?"
"Why, if he should mistake my motive, and – "
"What? suspect you of being – "
"A girl of the true stuff!"
"O but, sweet, how could he?"
As they laughed Fannie generously prepared to keep her guess to herself, and to imply, still more broadly, that all she imputed to her friend was the determination secretly to circumvent a father's evil designs.
Barbara roused from a reverie. "I know who'll help us, Fan, – Mr. Fair." She withstood her companion's roguish look with one of caressing gravity until the companion spoke, when she broke into a smile as tranquil as a mother's.
"Barb, Barb, you deep-dyed villain!"
The only reply of the defendant – they were once more in the shady lane – was to give her accuser a touch of challenge, and the two sprang up a short acclivity to where a longer vista opened narrowly before them. But here, as if rifles had been aimed at them, they shrank instantly downward. For in the dim sylvan light two others walked slowly before them, their heads hidden by the evergreen branches, but their feet perfectly authenticated and as instantly identified. One pair were twos, one were elevens, and both belonged to the Committee on Decorations. An arm that by nature pertained unto the elevens was about the waist that pertained unto the twos, and at the moment of discovery, as well as could be judged by certain sinuosities of lines below, there was a distance between the two pairs of lips less than any assignable quantity.
XLVII.
LEVITICUS
The two maidens were still laughing as they re-entered their gate. Fannie threw an arm sturdily around her companion's waist and sought to repeat the pantomime, but checked herself at the sight of a buggy drawing near.
It was old, misshapen, and caked with wet and dry mud, as also was the mule which drew it. In the vehicle sat three persons. Two were negro women. One of them – of advanced years – was in a full bloom of crisp calico under a flaring bonnet which must have long passed its teens. The other was young and very black. She wore a tawdry hat that only helped to betray her general slovenliness. From between them a negro man was rising and dismounting. A wide-brimmed, crackled beaver rested on his fluffy gray locks, and there was the gentleness of old age in his face.
The spring sap seemed to have started anew in the elder woman's veins. She tittered as she scrambled to rise, and when the old man offered to help her, she eyed him with mock scorn and waved him off.
"G'way fum me, 'Viticus Wisdom – gallivantin' round here like we was young niggehs! – Lawd! my time is come I cayn't git up; my bones dun tuk dis-yeh shape to staay!"
"Come, come!" said the husband, in an undertone of amiable chiding; and the buggy gave a jerk of thankful relief as its principal burden left it for the sidewalk, diffusing the sweet smell of the ironing-table.
While the younger woman was making her mincing descent, Fanny and Barbara came toward them in the walk.
"Miss Halliday," said Leviticus, lifting his beaver and bowing across the gate, "in response to yo' invite we – O bless the Lawd my soul! is that my little – Miss Barb, is that you?"
Before he could say more Virginia threw both hands high. "Faw de Lawd's sake!" She thrust her husband aside. "G'way, niggah! lemme th'oo dis-yeh gate 'fo' I go ove' it!" She snatched Barbara to her bosom. "Lawd, honey! Lawd, honey! Ef anybody 'spec' you' ole Aunt Fudjinny to stan' off an' axe her baby howdy dey bettah go to de crazy house! Lawd! Lawd! dis de fus' chance I had to hug my own baby since I been a po' ole free niggah!" She held the laughing girl off by the shoulders.
"Honey, ef it's my las' ac', I" – she snatched her close again, kissed one cheek twice and the other thrice, and held her off once more to fix upon her a tearful, ravishing gaze. "Lawd, honey, Johanna done tole me how you growin' to favo' my sweet Miss Rose, an' I see it at de fun'l when I can't much mo'n speak to you, an' cry so I cayn't hardly see you; but Lawd! my sweet baby, dough you cayn't neveh supersede her in good looks, you jess as quiet an' beautiful as de sweet-potateh floweh!
"Howdy, Miss Fannie?" She gave her hand and courtesied.
"Howdy, Uncle Leviticus?" said Barbara.
The old man lifted his hat again, bowed very low, and looked very happy. "I'm tol'able well, Miss Barb, thank the Lawd, an' hope an' trus' an' pray you're of the same complexion." Still including Barbara in his audience, he went on with an address to Fannie already begun.
"You know, Miss Fannie, yo' letteh say fo' Aunt Fudjinny an' me to come the twentieth – yass, ma'am, we understan' – but, you know, Mr. Mahch, he come down an' superscribe faw this young – ah – "
"Girl," suggested Barbara, with pretty condescension; but Fannie covertly trod on her toe and said, "lady," with a twinkle at the dowdy maiden.
"P'ecisely!" responded Leviticus to both speakers at once. "An' Mr. Mahch, he was bereft o' any way to fetch her to he's maw less'n he taken her up behime o' his saddle, an' so it seem' like the Lawd's call faw us to come right along an' bring her hencefah, an' then, if she an' his maw fin' theyse'ves agreeable, then Mr. Mahch – which his buggy happn to be here in Suez – 'llow to give her his transpotes the balance o' the way to-morrow in hit."
"And you and Aunt Virginia will stay through the golden wedding as our chief butler and chief baker, as I wrote you; will you?"
"Well, er, eh" – the old man scratched his head – "thass the question, Miss Fannie. Thass what I been a-revolvin', an' I sees two views faw revolution. On one side there is the fittenness o' we two faw this work."
"It's glaring," mused Fannie.
"Flagrant," as gravely suggested Barbara.
"P'ecisely! Faw, as you say in yo' letteh, we two was chief butler an' chief baker to they wedd'n' jess fifty year' ago, bein' at that time hi-ud out to 'Squi' Usher – the ole 'Squieh, you know – by Miss Rose' motheh, which, you know, Miss Tomb' she was a Usher, daughteh to the old 'Squi' Usher, same as she is still sisteh to the present 'Squieh, who was son to the ole 'Squieh, his father an' hern. The ole 'Squieh, he married a Jasper, an' thass how come the Tombses is remotely alloyed to the Mahches on the late Jedge's side, an' to you, Miss Barb, on Miss Rose's Montgomery side, an' in these times, when cooks is sca'ce an' butlehs is yit mo' so, it seem to me – it seem to me, Miss Fannie, like yo' letteh was a sawt o' – sawt o' – "
"Macedonian cry," said Fannie.
"Hark from the Tombses," murmured Barbara.
"And so you'll both come!" said Fannie.
"Why, as I say, Miss Fannie, thass the question, fo' there's the care o' my flock, you know."
"De laymbs," put in Virginia, "de laymbs is bleeds to be fed, you know, Miss Fannie, evm if dey is black."
"Yass, ma'am," resumed Leviticus; "an' if we speak o' mere yearthly toys, Fudjinia's pigs an' chickens has they claims."
"Well, whoever's taking care of them now can keep on till the twenty-second, Uncle Leviticus; and as for your church, you can run down there Sunday and come right back, can't you? Why can't you?"
"Uncle Leviticus," said Barbara, "we expect, of course, to pay you both, you know."
"Why, of course!" said Fannie, "you understood that, didn't you?"
"Yass'm, o' co'se," interposed Virginia, quickly, while Leviticus drawled,
"O the question o' pay is seconda'y! – But we'll have to accede, Fudjinia; they can't do without us."
"I think, Fannie," said Barbara, looking very business-like, "we'd better have them name their price and agree to it at once, and so be sure – "
"Lawd, honey!" cried Virginia, "we ain't goin' to ax no prices to you-all! sufficiend unto de price is de laboh theyof, an' we leaves dat to yo' generos'ty. Yass, dass right where we proud an' joyful to leave it – to yo' generos'ty."
"Well, now, remember, the Tombses mustn't know a breath about this. You'll find Johanna in the kitchen. She'll have to give you her room and sleep on the floor in Miss Barb's; she'll be glad of the excuse – "
"Thaank you, Miss Fannie," replied Virginia, with amiable complacency, "but we 'llowin' to soj'u'n with friends in town."
"O, indeed! Well" – Arrangements for a later conference were made. "Good-evening. I'm glad you're bringing such a nice-looking girl to Mrs. March. What is her – what is your name?"
"Daaphne."
"What!"
"Yass'm. Mr. Mahch say whiles I wuck faw he's maw he like me to be naame Jaane, but my fo'-true name's Daaphne, yass'm."
"Barb," said Fannie, "I've just thought of something we must attend to in the house at once!"
XLVIII.
DELILAH
Daphne Jane was one of Leggettstown's few social successes. She was neither comely nor guileless, but she was tremendously smart. Her pious parents had sent her for two or three terms to the "Preparatory Department" of Suez University, where she had learned to read, write, and add – she had been born with a proficiency in subtraction. But she had proved flirtatious, and her father and mother had spent their later school outlays on her younger brothers and sisters. Daphne Jane had since then found sufficient and glad employ trying to pomatum the frizzles out of her hair, and lounging whole hours on her window-sill to show the result to her rivals and monopolize and cheer the passing toiler with the clatter of her perky wit and the perfumes of bergamot and cinnamon.
Cornelius Leggett had easily discovered this dark planet, but her parents were honestly, however crudely, trying to make their children better than their betters expected them to be, and they forbade him the house and her the lonely stroll.
The daughter, from the first moment, professed to look with loathing upon the much-married and probably equally widowed Cornelius, but her mother did not trust her chaste shudderings. When John March came looking for a domestic, she eagerly arranged to put her out to service in a house where, Leviticus assured her, Cornelius dared not bring his foot. John March, however, was not taken into this confidence. The maid's quick wit was her strong card, and even Leviticus did not think it just to her to inform a master or mistress that it was the only strong card she held.
So, thanks to Leviticus, the only man in Leggettstown who would stop at no pains to "suckumvent wickedness in high places," here she was, half-way to Widewood, and thus far safe against any unguessed machinations of the enemy or herself. In Suez, too, all went well. Before Mrs. March Jane seemed made of angelic "yass'ms," and agreed, with a strange, sweet readiness to go to Widewood and assume her duties in her mistress's absence, which would be for a few days only.
"And you'll go" – "yass'm" – "with my son" – "yass'm" – "in the buggy" – "yass'm" – "and begin work" – "yass'm" – "just as though" – "yass'm" – "I were there" – "yass'm." Mrs. March added, half to herself, half to her son, "I find Suez" – "yass'm" – "more lonely than" – "yass'm" – "our forest home." "Yass'm" – said the black damsel.
John was delighted with such undaunted and unselfish alacrity. He was only sorry not to take her home at once, but really this business with Garnet and Gamble was paramount. It kept him late, and the next morning was well grown when he sought his mother to say that he could now take Jane to Widewood.
"My son, you cannot. It's too late."
"Why, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, my dear John."
"Where's the girl?"
"On the way to her field of labor."
"How is she getting there?"
"In our buggy."
"You haven't let her drive out alone?"
"My son, why should you charge me with both cruelty and folly?"
"Who took her out?"
"One, my dear boy, who I little thought would ever be more attentive to the widow's needs than her own son: Cornelius Leggett." Mrs. March never smiled her triumphs. Her lips only writhed under a pleasant pain.
"Well, I'll be – "
"Oh!"
"Why, what, mother? I was only going to say I'll be more than pleased if he doesn't steal the horse and buggy. I'll bet five dollars – "
"Oh!"
"O, I only mean I don't doubt he's half ruined both by now, and all to save a paltry hour."
"My son, it is not mine to squander. Ah! John, the hours are not ours!"
"Why, what are they? O! I see. Well, I wish whoever they belong to would come take 'em away!"
Cornelius was at that moment rejoicing that this one was peculiarly his. As he drove along the quiet Widewood road he was remarking to his charge:
"I arrove fum Pussy on the six o'clock train. One o' the fus news I get win' of is that you in town. Well! y'ought to see me!"
But his hearer refused to be flattered. "Wha'd you do – run jump in de riveh?"
"Jump in – I reckon not! I flew. Y'ought to see me fly to'a'ds you, sweet lady!"
The maiden laughed. "Law! Mr. Leggett, what a shoo-fly that mus' 'a' been! Was de conducto' ayfteh you?"
Mr. Leggett smiled undaunted. "My mos' num'ous thanks to yo' serenity, but I enjoys fum my frien' Presi
dent
Gamble the propriety of a free paass ove' his road."
"Oh? does you indeed!
Is
dat so! Why you makes me proud o' myse'ff. You hole a free paass on de raailroad, an' yit you countercend to fly to me!" The manner changed to one of sweet curiosity. "Does you fly jess with yo' two feet, aw does you comp'ise de assistance o' yo' ears?"
"Why, eh – why, I declah 'pon my soul, you – you es peart es popcawn! You trebbles me to respond to you with sufficient talk-up-titude."
"Does I? Laws-a-me! I ax yo' pahdon, Mr. Leggett. But I uz bawn sassy. I ought to be jess ashame' o' myseff, talkin' dat familious to a gen'leman o' yo' powehs an' 'quaintances. Why you evm knows Mr. Mahch, don't you?"
"Who, me? Me know Johnnie Mahch? Why, my dea' – escuse my smile o' disdaain – why Johnnie Mahch – why – why, I ra-aise' Johnnie!"
"Why, dee Lawdy! Does you call him Johnnie to his face?"
"Well, eh – not offm – ve'y seldom. 'Caze ef I do that, you know, then, here, fus' thing, he be a-callin' me C'nelius."
"I think C'nelius sounds sweet'n – " The speaker clapped a hand to her mouth. "Escuse me! O, Mr. Leggett,
kin
you escuse me?"
"Escuse you?" – his sidelong glance was ravishing – "yo' beauty mo'n escuse you."
The maiden dropped her lashes and drew her feet out of her protector's way. "An' you an' Mr. Mahch is frien's! How nice dat is!"
"Yass, it nice faw him. An' it useful faw me. We in cahoots in dis-yeh lan' boom. O, yass, me an' him an' Gyarnit an' Gamble, all togetheh like fo' brethers. I plays the fife, Johnnie beats the drum, Gyarnit wear the big hat an' flerrish the stick, an' Gamble, he tote the ice-wateh!" The two laughed so heartily as to swing against each other.
"Escuse me!" said Mr. Leggett, with great fondness of tone.
"You ve'y escusable," coyly replied the damsel. "Mr. Leggett, in what similitude does you means you plays de fife?"
"Why in the s'militude o' legislation, you know. But Law'! Johnnie wouldn't neveh had the sense to 'range it that-a way if it hadn't been faw my dea' ole-time frien' an' felleh sodjer, Gyarnit."
"Is dat so? Well, well! Maajo' Gyarnit! You used to cook faw him in camp di'n' you? How much good sense he got, tubbe sho'!" A mixture of roguishness spoiled the pretence of wonder.
"Good sense? Law'! 'twant good sense in Gyarnit nuther. It was jess my pow' ove' him! my stra-ange, masmaric poweh! You know, the arrangements is jess this! Gyarnit got th'ee hund'ed sheers, I got fawty; yit I the poweh behime the th'one. Johnnie, he on'y sec'ta'y an' 'ithout a salary as yit, though him an' his maw got – oh! I dunno – but enough so he kin sell it faw all his daddy could 'a' sole the whole track faw – that is, perwidin' he kin fine a buyeh. Champion, Shotwell, the Graveses – all that crowd, they jess on'y the flies 'roun' the jug; bymeby they find theyse'ves onto the fly-papeh." The pair laughed again, and —
"Oh! escuse me!"
"My acci
dent
, seh. Mr. Leggett, hoccum you got all dat poweh?"
"Ah!" said the smiling gallant, "you wants to know the secret o' my poweh, do you? Well, that interjuce the ezacly question I'm jess a-honin' to ass you. You ass me the secret o' my poweh. Don't you know thass the ve'y thing what Delijah ass Saampson?"
"Yass, seh. I knows. Dass in de Bible, ain't it?"
"It is. It in the sacred scripters, which I hope that, like myseff, fum a chile thou hass known them, ain't you? Yass, well, thass right. I loves to see a young lady pious. I'm pious myseff. Ef I wan't a legislater
I'd
be a preacher. Now, you ass me the same riddle what Delijah ass Saampson. An' you know how he anseh her? He assed a riddle to her. An' likewise this my sweet riddle to you: Is I the Saampson o' yo' hope an' dream an' will you be my Deli – Aw! now, don't whisk away like that an' gag yo'seff with yo' handkercher! I's a lawful widoweh, dearess."
The maiden quenched her mirth and put on great dignity. "Mr. Leggett, will you please to teck yo' ahm fum roun' my wais'?" She glanced back with much whiteness of eyes. "Teck it off, seh; I ain't aansw'ed you yit."
The arm fell away, but his whispering lips came close. "Ain't I yo' Saampson, dearess o' the dear? Ain't you the Delijah o' my haht? Answeh me, my julepina, an' O, I'll reply you the secret o' my poweh aw any otheh question in the wide, wide worl'!"
"Mr. Leggett, ef you crowds me any wuss on dis-yeh buggy seat I – I'll give you – I'll give you a unfavo'able answeh! Mr. Leggett" – she sniggered – "you don't gimme no chaynce to think o' no objections even ef I had any! Will you please to keep yo' foot where yo' foot belong, seh? Mr. Leggett – "
"What is it, my sweet spirit o' nightshade?"
"Mr. Leggett" – the eyes sparkled with banter – "I'll tell you ef you'll fus' aansweh
me
a riddle; will you? 'Caze ef you don't I won't tell you. Will you?"
"Lawd! I'll try! On'y ass it quick befo' my haht bus' wide opm. Ass it quick!"
"Well, you know, I cayn't ass it so scan'lous quick, else I run de dangeh o' gettin' it wrong. Now, dis is it: When is – hol' on, lemme see – yass, dass it. When is two – aw! pshaw! you make me laaugh so I can't ax it at all! When is two raace hawses less'n one?"
"Aw, sheh! I kin ans' that in five minutes! I kin ans' it in one minute! I kin ans' it now! Two hosses is – "
"Hol' on! I said raace hawses! Two raace hawses, I said, seh!"
"Well, dass all right, race hosses! Two race hosses less'n one when they reti-ud into the omlibus business."
"No, seh! no seh!" The maiden cackled till the forest answered back. "No,
seh
! two raace hawses less'n one when each one on'y jess abreas' o' the otheh!"
– "'Breas' o' – aw pshaw! you tuck the words right out'n my mouth! I seed the answeh to it fum the fus; I made a wrong espunction the fus time on'y jess faw a joke! Now, you ans' my question, dearess."
But the dearest had become grave and stately. "Mr. Leggett, befo' I comes to dat finality, I owes it to myseff an' likewise to my pa'ents to git yo' respondence to, anyhow, one question, an' ef you de man o' poweh you say you is, y' ought to be highly fitt'n' to give de correc' reply."
"Espoun' your question, miss! Espoun' yo' question!"
"Well, seh, de question is dis: Why is de – ? No, dat ain't it. Lemme see. O yass, whass de diff'ence 'twix' de busy blacksmiff an' de loss calf? Ans' me dat, seh! Folks say C'nelius Leggett a pow'ful smaht maan! How I gwine to know he a smaht maan ef he cayn't evm ans' a riddle-diddle-dee?"
"I kin ans' it! I's ans'ed bushels an' ba'ls o' riddles! Now that riddle is estremely simple, an' dis is de inte'p'etation thereof! The diff'ence betwix' a busy blacksmiff an' a loss ca-alf – thass what you said, ain't it? – Yass, well, it's because – O thass too easy! I dislikes to occupy my facilities with sich a trifle! It's jess simply because they both git so hawngry they cross-eyed! Thass why they alike!"
"No, seh! no, seh! miss it ag'in! O fie, fo' shaame! a man o' sich mind-powehs like you! Didn't you neveh know de blacksmiff fill de air full o' bellows whilce de loss calf – aw shucks! you done made me fo'git it! Now, jess hesh up, you smaht yalleh niggeh! try in' to meek out like you done guess it! Dis is it; de blacksmiff he fill de caalf full o' bellows, whilce – "
They both broke into happy laughter and he toyed innocently with one of her pinchbeck ear-rings.
"O! my sweet familiarity! you knows I knows it! But yo' sof' eyes is shot me th'oo to that estent that I don't know what I does know! I jess sets here in the emba'ssment o' my complacency a won'de'n' what you takes me faw!"
"How does you know I's tuck you at all yit; is I said so, Mr. Saampson? – Don't you tetch me, seh! right here in full sight o' de house! You's too late, seh! too late! Come roun' here, C'nelius Leggett, an' he'p me out'n dis-yeh buggy, else I dis'p'int you yit wid my aansweh. – No, seh! you please to take jess de tips o' my fingehs. Now, gimme my bundle o' duds!" the voice rose and fell in coquettish undulations – "now git back into de buggy – yass, seh; dass right. Thaank yo ve'y much, seh. Good-by. Come ag'in."
"Miss Daphne, y' ain't ans' my interrogutive yit."
"Yass, I is. Dass my answeh – come ag'in."
"Is dat all de respondence my Delijah got faw her Saampson?"
"Mr. Leggett, I ain't yo' Delijah! Thass fix! I ain't read the scripters in relations to dat young lady faw nuthin! Whetheh you my Saampson remain" – the smile and tone grew bewitching – "faw me to know an faw you to fine out."
"Shell I come soon?" murmured Mr. Leggett, for the old field hand and his wife were in sight; and the girl answered in full voice, but winsomely:
"As to dat, seh, I leaves you to de freedom o' yo' own compulsions."
He moved slowly away, half teased, half elated. At the l