"I'm glad they went off at the right moment," said Elsie, laughing.
Dolf rather missed her play upon his mispronunciation of the word, but he gave another magnificent flourish.
"Jes so, Miss Elsie; you've 'spressed it beautiful."
"How do you do, Dolf?" asked Mrs. Mellen, kindly, rousing herself from the abstraction into which she had fallen while Elsie and her brother had been chatting together. "Are you glad to get back?"
"I'se ebery reason to be satisfactory with my health, and am much 'bliged by de 'quiry," replied 'Dolf, with a bow so profound that it seemed by a miracle he recovered his balance, "I'se bery glad to see de ole place again, Miss Mellen, and de faces of yerself and young Miss Elsie is like de sunshine to me."
"Bless me, Dolf," cried Elsie, "that's poetry."
Dolf gave a deprecatory wave of the hand, as if the poetry had been unavoidable, and a smile which insinuated that he was capable of still higher flights of fancy, as he said:
"Mebbe, mebbe, Miss Elsie—I didn't reserve partic'lar—dese tings takes a pusson onawares mostly."
"Now, Dolf," said his master, "try and put my things in some sort of order before the day is over."
"Yes, marster; ebery ting dat's wanting shall be toppermost."