"I think, if I remember rightly, he receives a hundred and fifty dollars."
Drusilla sat back in her chair aghast.
"One hundred and fifty dollars a month for a cook! Elias Doane must 'a' been out of his head!"
"I think that is not an exorbitant price for a cook with the reputation of this one. He was for many years with Mr. Doane."
"To think of it costin' one hundred and fifty dollars a month before you got anything to eat, and all give to that fat, lazy Frenchman! If I'd 'a' knowed it, his things would 'a' choked me. And your brother talked to me about the expense of keepin' my children! Why, you git me a fat Irish woman, who likes real vittles, and who ain't above cookin' oatmeal, and pay her about fifty dollars a month, and she'll suit me and we'll be savin' enough to pay for the babies."
She was quiet a moment.
"You talked kind of mean about my babies, and I know you was thinkin' about my colored baby." Then, looking at him suddenly: "Did you ever see a colored baby when he's nothin' on but a little white shirt?"
The lawyer shook his head stiffly.
"I'm afraid my duties have not called me in the neighborhood of colored babies dressed only in white shirts."
"Well," said Drusilla, "you've missed a lot. But I'm goin' to begin your education right away. It's just bedtime. You come with me."