“Oh! he’s the colored man?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why, he is down,” said the young man, coolly. “He let us in. We had to come early, ’cause we’ve got so much work to do, and we didn’t get through at Pinkney’s till nine o’clock last night.”
“At Pinkney’s?” cried Dot, as the young man yawned. “Did—did you burgle Sammy’s house, too?”
“What d’ye mean—‘burgle’?” asked the young man, biting off the yawn and staring again at Dot.
“I beg your pardon,” said Dot, gently. “But—but what do you call it?”
Just then the door of the butler’s pantry opened and Uncle Rufus looked in.
“Dat oddah plumber done come, young man,” he said. “Dis ain’t no time in de mawnin’—‘fo’ six o’clock—t’ come t’ folks’s houses nohow t’ mend a busted watah-pipe—nossir! Yuh got all ob dem silber pieces out ob de safe?”
“They’re all out, Uncle,” said the young man.
“Whuffo’ dey run dat pipe t’rough de silber closet, I dunno,” complained the old darkey. “I use t’ tell Mistah Peter Stowah dat it was one piece of plain foolishness. What if de bat’room is ober dis closet—”