“Don’ believe dat, nohow. Marse Hadyn ain’ never is ter say wha’ he no b’isness ter,” asserted Mammy.
“Hah! I’ve one champion, anyway,” choked Hadyn.
“Two,” corrected Jean.
“Oh, Mammy,” called Constance after the retreating figure. “Mr. Forbes says the address you wanted is 620 Westbank Road.”
“Huh? Wha’ yo’ say?” cried Mammy, whirling about and coming out upon the piazza again, her face a study.
“Yes, Miss Boggs’ address, Mammy. Why did you ask Mr. Forbes about it? I could have given it to you, you know.”
“My Lawd!” was Mammy’s brief retort, and, turning as quickly as she had come, she hurried indoors once more.
“I shall never understand Mammy if I live to be a hundred years old” said Constance. “I often believe I’ve solved her riddle, then presto! here comes a new phase.”
“Leave her alone, Constance. Don’t try to solve it. Just take her as she is, and make sure that her ‘chillen’ come first in her thoughts,” said Hadyn. “But, by the by, will you come for a ride to-morrow afternoon?”
“Gladly.”