"Naw, sah, he ain' budged. He say he sleepin' better'n he uster."
"Zack, do you want to ride over to Mister Bob's for me before breakfast?"
"You knows I do—'foh breakfas', an' arter breakfas'!"
"Then get your mule—I'll have something for you to take."
While Zack was hurrying to the stables, Brent walked excitedly to the garden to pick a bouquet of flowers; but, although there were thousands of blossoms from which to choose, their selection seemed a most difficult problem. More difficult, however, was a note he tried to write a few minutes later in the library; and Zack was waiting patiently before the third attempt—which happened to be the successful one—was sealed.
This he tied with the flowers to the mysterious cylinder and handed them to the grinning negro.
"Don't muss things up," he admonished. "And you know who to give them to!"
"I knows you ain' sendin' no flowers to Marse Bob or li'l Bip," the grin became broader.
Then Brent continued his walk. He felt that he could never be quiet again. The Colonel, when he came down, was too much occupied with his own thoughts to notice this restlessness, but, as a woman appeared to serve breakfast, he asked:
"Where is Zack?"