"Don't be ravagerous," returned Dolf. "Any question ob yours it is my delight to answer, only propose it."
"I does, plainly enough. What's marster gwine to have done to dat ar ole tree?"
"Hab de airth dug up," said Dolf, deeming it wiser to use a more simple phraseology; "he's 'feared it's dying."
Mellen was about to order them away from that part of the house—the veriest trifle irritated him now—when Clorinda's next words made him pause.
"I wish he'd hev it dug up by the roots," she said; "I do 'lieve dat ar tree is haunted."
"Haunted!" screamed Dolf, who possessed a large share of the superstition of his race. "Now what does yer mean, Miss Clorindy?"
"Jes' what I ses," replied she sharply; "I ain't one ob de kind dat tittervates up my words till dey haint got no sense left."
"But I never heerd of a haunted tree," said Dolf, gaining new courage as he remembered that it was broad daylight. "Haunted houses I've heerd on in plenty; but a tree——"
"Oh, mebby yer don't know eberything yet!" said Clo, viciously.
Clo had been rather short with her lover of late, having interrupted several private flirtations of Victoria, with the faithless one.