Charlotte stopped on her way to the frying pan with widening eyes and uplifted fork, and listened attentively, with an occasional jerk of the head toward William.
“Jist tell me,” pursued Levi, “if you ’low dose gals to have de run of de quarters, caze dey gits mischief in dere heads if dey run wid quarter niggers.”
“No, sir,” responded the woman emphatically, “dey never goes down dar; I’m keerful ’bout dat—onreason’ble keerful; no, sir, if I was to let ’em have the run o’ dat quarter lot dere would never be a cold biskit nor a cup o’ clabber in dis house de minit atter you put ’em outen your hands. No, sir, Mr. Stucker, if old Hannah, or ary of de sick niggers down dar wants anything from dis house dey got to send one of their own little niggers wid de cup or de pan, and I pintedly gives ’em what’s needed; dere’s nuff work for Ma’y Ann and Marthy Ann ’bout dis house ’dout dey visitin’ at de quarters and waitin’ on quarter niggers. I bet, dough, dey’s bin in some mischief I ain’t had time to ferret out.”
After a pause she continued, “And you say you think dey done stole somethin’?”
“Yes,” answered Stucker, pushing back his chair and rising from the table; “yes, I understand somethin’ of dat natur’, if you has missed ary thing.”
“We did miss dat currycomb what William comb his har wid; it was a bran new, kinder stiff one, and he missed it last Sunday,” replied Charlotte.
“Dat jist fallen outen de winder, it warn’t lost,” interrupted William, who had been watching for a favorable opportunity to join the conversation.
“Yes, dem spawns foun’ hit outdoors, when I tole ’em I’d skin ’em if it wasn’t perjuced,” said Charlotte, turning to William, who thereupon relapsed into acquiescent silence.
“It warn’t no currycomb dey was talkin’ ’bout last night,” said Stucker, jerking first one leg then the other to free his shaggy breeches of dodger crumbs.
“Jist hold on a minit,” said Charlotte, stepping to the kitchen door and shouting, “Ma’y Ann and Marthy Ann, whar’s you?”