“I thought he’d kind ob hold back ‘bout dat letter. I knows dat letter from Mass’r John. I’se sure ob it.”
“Did you look—at the outside of it, I mean—Harriet?”
“No, Miss Phill, I didn’t look neider at de outside, nor de inside; I’s not dat kind; I look at Mass’r Richard’s face. Bless you, Miss Phill! Mass’r Richard kaint hide nothing. If he was in love Harriet would know it, quick as a flash—”
“I think not, Harriet.”
“Den I tell you something, Miss Phill. Mass’r Richard been in love eber since he come back from ober de Atterlantic Ocean. P’raps you don’t know, but I done found him out.”
Phyllis laughed.
“I tell you how I knows it. Mass’r Richard allays on de lookout for de postman; and he gits a heap ob dem bluish letters wid a lady’s face in de corner.”
“That is Queen Victoria’s face. You don’t suppose Master Richard is in love with Queen Victoria?”
“Miss Phill, de Fontaines would fall in love wid de moon, and think dey pay her a compliment—dey mighty proud fambly, de Fontaines; but I’se no such fool as not to know de lady’s head am worth so many cents to carry de letter. But, Miss Phill, who sends de letters? Dat am de question.”
“Of course, that would decide it.”