“Tar-box. Chil’run and friends and fellow-citizen’, I have the p’oudness to int’oduce you the hono’able George Washington Tarbox! And now the exhibition is dismiss’; but stop! Sir, if some—aw all—desire gratefully to shake hand’?”
“I should feel honored.”
“Attention, everybody! Make rank! Everybody by two by two, the school-chil’run coming last,—Claude and Sidonie resting till the end,—pass ’round—shake hand’—walk out—similah a fu-nial.”
So came, shook hands, and passed out and to their simple homes, the manhood, motherhood, maidenhood, childhood of Grande Pointe, not knowing that before many days every household in the village was to be a subscriber to the “Album of Universal Information.”
One of the last of the householders was Chat-oué. But when he grasped the honored hand, he also held it, fixing upon its owner a generous and somewhat bacchanalian smile.
“I’m a fool, but I know. You been put op a jawb on me. Dass four, five days now I been try to meck out what dat niggah at Belle Alliance holla to me when I gallop down de road.” (Chat-oué’s English had been acquired from negroes in the sugar-house, and was like theirs.) “He been braggin’ dat day befo’”—turning to Bonaventure—“how ’twas him show you de road to Gran’ Point’ las’ year; and so I git mad and tell him, me,” addressing the stranger again, “how we goin’ git school shot op. Well, dat night I mit him comin’ fum Gran’ Point’ and he hol’ at me. I been try evva since meck out what he say. Yass. An’ I jis meck it out! He say, ‘Watch out, watch out, ’Mian Roussel and dat book-fellah dawn’t put op jawb on you.’ Well, I’m a fool, but I know. You put op jawb on me; I know. But dass all right—I don’t take no book.” He laughed with the rest, scratched his tipsy head, and backed out through the pieux.
Only a fairy number remained, grouped around the honorable Tarbox. They were St. Pierre, Bonaventure,—Maximian detaining a middle-aged pair, Sidonie’s timorous guardians,—and two others, who held back, still waiting to shake hands.
“Claude,” cried Bonaventure; “Sidonie.”
They came. Claude shook hands and stepped inside. Sidonie, with eyes on the ground, put forth her hand. The honored guest held it lingeringly, and the ceremonies were at an end.
“Come,” said ’Mian, beckoning away the great G. W.’s probable relative. They passed out together. “Come!” he repeated, looking back and beckoning again; “walk een! all han’! walk een house!”