“George!” exclaimed I in despair, “come and help this lady.”
“Never mind me, sir; I get plenty,” whispered the fair.
No answer from the servant.
“John, I say! why won’t you come hither?”
“My name is not John, sir,” grinned one of the negroes as he passed by to wait upon another person.
“Sam, then!” I cried, “and may the Lord have mercy on you!”
“Wat wil you be hept to, massa?” ejaculated a dark, glossy mulatto, whose face looked as if it had just been varnished.
“What will you have, Miss ***?” demanded I of the lady.
“Why, I really don’t know. I have not had time to think of it. They all eat so fast.”
“Sam!” exclaimed a stentorian voice from the other end of the table.