Clo nodded her head several times with gravity and precision.
"Yes, missis," she repeated, with the firmness of a person who meant what she said, and was fully prepared to defend her opinion.
"What's come over her?" asked Vic.
"Dat's jis' it," returned Clo; "now you've hit it prezact—yer might talk a week, Victy, and not come inter de pint agin."
Victoria looked at Dolf, and he looked at her, but, however convincing her own words might have seemed to Clorinda, there was nothing to throw any light upon their minds.
"Yer's repeatin' wid yer usual knowledge," said Dolf, softly, "but can't yer sperficate a leetle more clear."
"Mr. Dolf," said Clorinda, rolling up her eyes 'till only the whites were visible, "when I lives in a house de secrets ob dat house is locked in my bussom—"
"But ter feller domestics," put in artful Dolf.
"Jis' 'mong us," said Vic.
"I know, I feels dat, and so I speak," replied Clo. "I ain't gwine ter say Miss Mellen is a favoright ob mine, 'cause she ain't—but she's my missus. Her ways isn't my ways, dat's all I says, and I hain't recustomed to bein' brung up so sharp roun' de corners as is her way ter do."