“I am. But it looks as if he wasn’t coming,” answered Gif. “It’s just like him. He’s the slowest fellow I know. But dad said we might as well take him along. There’s nothing much for him to do at home just now.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Jeff, our hired man. Dad said we might as well take him up to the bungalow to do the cooking and some of the other work.”
“Gee! a colored man, eh?” exclaimed Andy. “We’re to go up there in style!”
“I’d rather not have him along,” answered Gif. “But dad said we might as well take him and make him earn his salary. You see the folks are not at home a great deal, and that doesn’t leave Jeff much to do.”
As Gif was speaking a tall, ungainly-looking colored man, wearing a pepper and salt suit and a light derby hat, shuffled into view, carrying a valise in one hand and a bundle done up in a newspaper in the other. As he came closer he began to smile languidly.
“I’d an awful walk reachin’ here, Mistah Gif,” he remarked, as he let his bag and bundle drop. “Awful walk! I got all tangled up in them roundabout streets. Never did see no streets like these here ones in Boston.”
“I thought you wouldn’t get here, Jeff,” answered Gif. “Get aboard. The train is about to start. Boys, this is Jefferson Adams Lincoln Wilson, always called Jeff for short. Jeff, this is Sir Spouter and these are the Mr. Rovers, number one, two, three and four.”
“Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” responded the lanky colored man, bowing profoundly all around. “Yes, sir! One, two, three, four! That’s easy, yes, sir,” and then he followed the boys as they boarded the train.
“How far is it to Rocky Run?” questioned Fred, after the crowd had seated themselves with Jeff just behind them.