“What do you know of him?”
“He war de cruel massa ob dat slabe gal whom you hab de hair ob in yer bosom.”
“I’m glad of it!” cried Clara, throwing her clenched hand in the air, and looking up as if to have the heavens hear her.
“O, darlin’ chile, what am dar ole Esha kn do for her?”
Clara stopped short, and, pressing both hands on her forehead, stood as if calling her best thoughts to a council of war, and then said, “Can you get me a small valise, Esha?”
“Hab a carpet-bag I kn gib her. You jes wait one minute.” And Esha returned with the desired article.
“Now help me pack it with the things I shall most need. Mrs. Gentry expects me soon to go a-shopping with her. When she calls for me, I shall be missing. I’ve not yet made up my mind where to go. I shall think on that as I walk along. What’s the matter, Esha? What do you stare at?”
“Look dar! What yer see dar, darlin’?”
“A pair of little sleeve-buttons. How pretty! Gold with a setting of coral. And on the inside, in tiny letters, C. A. B.”
“Wall, dat’s de ’stonishin’est ting I’ze seen dis many a day. Ten—no, ’lebben—no, fourteen yars ago, as I war emptyin’ suds out ob de wash-tub, I see dese little buttons shinin’ on de groun’. ’T was de Monday arter you was browt here. Your little underclose had been in de wash. So what does I do but put de buttons in my pocket, tinkin’ I’d gib ’em ter missis ter keep fur yer. But whan I look for ’em, dey was clean gone,—couldn’t fine ’em nowhar. So I say noting t’ all ’bout it. Jes now, as I tuk up fro’ my trunk a little muslin collar dat de dare saint I tell yer ’bout used ter wear, what sh’d drop from de foles but dis same little pair ob buttons dat I hab’nt seen fur all dese yars. Take ’em, darlin’, fur dey ’long ter you an’ ter nobody else.”