“And so Dickson drove you here, did he, ma’am?” inquired the old skipper.
“He did. But as for the people staring at me, sez I to that nigger, if I am a show, I’m a free show, sez I, and it will cost ’em nothing, sez I, and it ain’t often as the poor white trash in the city gets a good chance to stare at the descendant of the great duke, sez I, and you may lay your life on that, sez I. So that nigger got in and drove the mule, and Joshua marched behind as solemn as a funeral procession. And so we got here. And now how is my boy? My adopted neffy? And where is he?”
“Roland is in good health. He is at present—ahem!—living on Capitol Hill,” answered the old salt, who was unwilling at this juncture to enter into explanations with Miss Sibby as to Roland’s real state.
“And why isn’t the boy staying here with you all?” inquired the old lady.
“Oh, he—there is no room here. We are fearfully crowded. The four young ladies have to sleep two in a bed, in a double-bedded room.”
“That’s ruinous to health. Why don’t you all go to some other hotel?”
“Because they are all more crowded than this.”
“Then what am I to do?”
“Oh, Sam and I are going out to hunt for lodgings now. We have to find lodgings for my two nieces and nephew. We will hunt up a place for you also. Of course, you will stay here to-day.”
“It is perfectly dreadful! If I had a knowed all this I’d a-never have left home. I had room enough to turn round in there, anyways. When people’s well off, sez I, they ought to be content, sez I. But how is Abel Force and his wife and Odalite? I don’t see any of ’em round.”