“Where did you meet these blacks?” Virginia asked, avoiding Org’s question as to the color-line.
“I met Little Bit at the foot of the hill. He told me he was the captain’s white negro. I met Mustard Prophet in front of the Hen-Scratch saloon in Dirty-Six. We picked up Popsy Spout at Shin Bone’s hot-cat stand in Hell’s Half-Acre!”
Under this appalling summary of information, Miss Virginia reeled back in dismay.
“No doubt,” she said weakly.
“If you want to save stamps, Gince,” Org suggested eagerly, “you better write to Little Bit’s captain and let me carry the notes for you. I saw the captain when we were coming home. He’s got a’ automobile as big as a street-car. He was in the army and a German shot him——”
A slight flush appeared on Miss Virginia’s cheek. It spread slowly, like the unfurling of some flag—the star-spangled banner for instance.
“I don’t care to hear the personal history of the acquaintances you have made to-day,” Miss Virginia interrupted.
“His name is Captain Kerley Kerlerac, Gince,” Org persisted. “Little Bit told me. Little Bit, my colored friend, is the captain’s pet coon.”