“Naw, suh, ’tain’t no medicine doctor; it’s a preachin’ doctor I wants to be, like Dr. Sentelle.”
“Huh!” Figger grunted and sank down into his seat. The mystery was too great for his feeble mind.
At that moment there was a loud knocking at the door. Then the outer guard reported:
“A stranger is outside—he ain’t got no grip or password—wants to git inside.”
“Whut mought his name be?” Hitch inquired.
“Green Trapps.”
Hitch received this announcement with joy, for now he had some one who could explain the mystery.
“De lodge will be at rest,” he announced. “Outer guard, admit Perfessor Green Trapps.”
The lodge stood up and viewed this citified negro as he walked slowly up the hall under the escort of the guard. His appearance was pleasing, and they gave him the lodge salute when he was introduced, and sat down to look at him some more.
“You is come jes’ in time, Perfessor,” Hitch Diamond bellowed. “Us is got our D.D. program in a jam, an’ we wants you to tell it to us agin, so our minds kin git clear.”