“Then, get me a larger lamp.”
“Aint no larger lamps, nuther, sar;—none to spare.”
“Then go out, and see if you can’t buy me some candles, somewhere.”
“Aint no stores open, Sunday, massa, and I don’t know where I can buy ’em.”
“Then go down, and tell the bar-keeper, with my compliments, that I wish to write in my room, and I would be obliged to him if he would send me a light, of some sort; something that will last longer, and give more light, than these little lamps.”
“He won’t give you none, massa—not if you hab a fire. Can’t you see by da light of da fire? When a gentlemen hab a fire in his room, dey don’t count he wants no more light ’n dat.”
“Well, make the fire, and I’ll go down and see about it.”
As I reached the foot of the stairs, the bell rang, and I went in to tea. The tea table was moderately well lighted with candles. I waited till the company had generally left it, and then said to one of the waiters—
“Here are two dimes: I want you to bring me, as soon as you can, two of these candles to number eleven; do you understand?”
“Yes, sar; I’ll fotch ’em, sar.”