“Oh!” said the little girl, and, grasping the fact that William's position was, in dignity and authority, negligible, compared with that which she had persisted in imagining, she felt it safe to tint her upward gaze with disfavor. “He acts kind of crazy,” she murmured.
“He's in love of Miss Pratt,” said Jane. “She's goin' away to-day. She said she'd go before, but to-day she IS! Mr. Parcher, where she visits, he's almost dead, she's stayed so long. She's awful, I think.”
William, to whom all was audible, shouted, hoarsely, “I'll see to YOU!” and disappeared from the window.
“Will he come down here?” the little girl asked, taking a step toward the gate.
“No. He's just gone to call mamma. All she'll do' ll be to tell us to go play somewheres else. Then we can go talk to Genesis.”
“Who?”
“Genesis. He's puttin' a load of coal in the cellar window with a shovel. He's nice.”
“What's he put the coal in the window for?”
“He's a colored man,” said Jane.
“Shall we go talk to him now?”