“Ain’t you afeared it will take away your appetite for breakfast, ma’am?” inquired Luce.
“Take away my appetite? Ho! ho! ho! That’s a good un!” chuckled the guest, as she crunched the sugar in her strong, white teeth.
“Don’t yer think as yer’d be more comferable in de parlor, ma’am? Dere’s a splendid fire burning dere,” suggested Luce.
“No. I’m all right here. I feel just as ‘snug as a bug in a rug.’ Don’t mind, nigger. Go on and do your work.”
“Nigger!” Luce had never been so insulted in all her life before, yet she saw that the good-natured creature who was toasting herself before the fire did not mean to insult her.
“Say! I s’pose you’ve heard all about me, haven’t you?” inquired the latter.
“Ma’am?” questioned Luce, hardly knowing how to answer.
“I say, you know who I am, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. You are Col. Anglesea’s lady,” promptly replied Luce.
“‘Col. Anglesea’s lady?’ What do you mean by that, nigger? I am Col. Anglesea’s wife, I’d have you to know! Now, what did you mean by ‘lady’?” demanded the stranger, with spirit.