"Tain't ter be 'spected," said Dolf.
"Mebby 'tis and mebby 'tisn't," returned Clorinda; "I only says I ain't recustomed to it, dat's all."
"But what do yer tinks happened ter her ter put 'em all in sich a to-do?" questioned Victoria.
"I ain't prepared ter say ezzactly," replied Clo, "but I tink she's gwine crossways wid marster and dat lubly angel, Miss Elsie. Dar's a syrup fur ye! She nebber gubs a pusson orders widout eben lookin' at 'em—she ain't so high and mighty dat de ground ain't good 'nuff for her ter walk on! Not but what missus a mighty fine woman—she steps off like a queen, and I tell yer when she's dressed der ain't many kin hold a candle ter her, and as fur takin' de shine off, wal, I'd jis' like ter see anybody do dat."
"It's all true," said Dolf, "as true as preachin'!"
"Mr. Dolf," said Clo, gravely, "don't take dem seriousnesses so lightsome on yer lips."
"I won't," said Dolf, humbly, "I begs ter 'polegise—yer see in gazing 'bout de world a gemman 'quires some parts ob speech as seems keerless, but dey don't come from de heart."
"I'se glad dey don't," observed Clorinda, "bery glad, Mr. Dolf."
"But what do yer tink missus has done?" demanded Victoria.
Such a straightforward question was rather a puzzler to Clorinda, so she answered with a stately air: