“Two o’ dose no-count white men is somewhere in de front part of de house. An’ let me tell yo’all if dat white trash comes a-bustin’ inter my kitchen agin, dey a-gwine ter git a rollin’ pin bounced offen dere skulls!”
“If you can’t do it, Liza—I will—” added Uncle Abe.
“Ho—how come I can’t do it, Abe? You jes’ watch dis pickaninny. I’ll bust ’em an’ bust ’em good!”
Dorothy giggled. Liza’s description of herself as a pickaninny had upset her gravity for the moment.
“I can see you’re both going to be useful. But tell me, Auntie—do you know where they’re keeping this young man?”
“He’s in de blue room, Missy. I done tote up his breakfas’ to de do’. Marse Joyce give de odder two girls de day off, so I’se cook an’ waitress an’ chambermaid today. You run along, Miss Do’thy an’ if dose cheap ivory rollers try ter git fresh—jes’ holler fo’ Aunt Liza—she’ll bust ’em!”
Dorothy had started for the pantry when Uncle Abe sprang out of his chair and caught her arm.
“’Scuse me, Missy,” he apologized then went on eagerly—“I’se got er idee.”
“Yes? What is it, Uncle?”
“Dey’s logs an’ dey’s kindlin’ in der entry, missy. I done seen ’em when we come in. Well, Miss Do’thy, you tote some kindlin’—an’ I’ll carry a couple er logs an’—”