“Yo’ say yo’ seed de youn’ mist’ess on de poach, sah?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Mus’ be ’staken, sah. Mus’ ’a’ been Sister Sarious you seed dere.”
“What! The colored housemaid?” demanded Hanson, half amused, half indignant at the impudence of the negro.
“Yas, sah. Dat’s so, sah. Yo’s puffeckly yight, sah. It were Sarious as yo’ seed dere wid dem chilluns, jes’ as yo’ say, sah.”
“Why, you dreadful old humbug!” exclaimed Hanson with a laugh, “I said nothing of the sort. I said it was your mistress whom I saw on the porch. Do you hope to persuade me that I mistook a negro woman, as black as the ace of spades, for the fair lady of the house? The devil fly away with you and your impudence. It was your mistress whom I saw plainly on the porch when I was close to the house. Now, what do you mean by telling me that she has gone to Washington?” he demanded.
Pompous rubbed his forehead in dire perplexity. Then, with characteristic facility, he immediately “tacked,” and, putting his hands together with persuasive earnestness, he said:
“Yes, sah. Dat’s berry true, sah. But I finks as yo’ didn’ pay ’tention to w’at I were sayin’, sah. No, sah, I sho yo’ didn’ year wot I were sayin’.”
“Well, what in the deuce were you saying?” demanded Hanson, provoked and impatient, yet amused.
“I was a-sayin’, sah, as de youn’ mist’ess hab been to Washin’town, sah. Yas, sah, been, sah, not gone, but been, sah. Yas, sah; been to de city dis long time pas’.”