“Put on Port and Champagne.”
Sam’s departure was followed by the chamber-maid’s appearance.
“Are my rooms all ready, Agnes?”
“Yes, massa. Front room, second story, all ready. Sheets fresh and aired. Floor swept dis mornin’. All clean an’ sweet, massa.”
There was something in the forward and assured air of this negro woman that was satisfactory to Ratcliff. Some little coquetries of dress suggested that she had a weakness through which she might be won to be his unquestioning ally in any designs he might adopt. He threw out a compliment on her good looks, and this time he found his compliment was not thrown away. He gave her money, telling her to buy a new dress with it, and promised her a silk shawl if she would be a good girl. To all of which she replied with simpers of delight.
“Now, Agnes,” said he, “tell me what you think of the little crazy lady up-stairs?”
“I’se of ’pinion, sar, dat gal am no more crazy nor I’m crazy.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so, for I intend to make her my wife; and want you to help me all you can in bringing it about.”
“Shouldn’t tink massa would need no help, wid all his money. Wheugh! What’s de matter? Am she offish?”
“A little obstinate, that’s all. But she’ll come round in good time. Only you stand by me close, Agnes, and you shall have a hundred dollars the day I’m married.”