"Jis' confide in my buzzom," said Dolf, tenderly.
"Men is so duberous, 'specially dem as brags 'bout der mean white blood, which comes out coppery any how," said Clorinda.
"Yer knows I'se de most faithful and constance ob my sect," cried Dolf. "Yer may speak freely to me."
"I 'spose yer'd say de same to Vic."
"Neber, Miss Clorindy! What, dat silly, giggling girl—don't tink it!"
His persuasions met with their reward at last; he pleaded again:
"Jis' tell me what yer means 'bout de tree bein' haunted?"
She yielded to his flattery and her feminine desire to tell all that she had seen or imagined about the old cedar.
"Mebby 'twas two months 'fore you came back," she said, in the tone of a person trying to be exact in her recollection of events.
"What was?" cried Dolf, impatiently, "de hauntin'?"