"What does the man give me an orange for, such a morning as this? As to this ice-water, I would not touch a drop of it, in any weather. I hope you have not, either of you, taken to that dangerous habit?"
Then, as the negro in attendance leaned reflectively on the back of Grace's chair, his round eyes fixed upon the animated face of the speaker, "May I ask," she continued, "if that gentleman of color always listens to your conversation? Perhaps he would join in if you asked him."
"It's a way they have here," murmured her nephew. "They don't mean to be cheeky, but servants here are the only class who never, by any accident, address you as 'sir.' As to these waiter-fellows, their manners, I admit, are peculiar. One darky pulled my hat off my head the other day. He thought he was doing the civil thing."
She threw up her hands. "And, pray, did you do the civil thing in return?" The menu for the morning meal being handed to her, she exclaimed, "Good heavens! What is this? 'Clam chowder,' 'Squab pie.' What on earth is 'Squab pie'? 'Cold-slaw and shredded beef!'—it sounds like cannibalism! 'Flapjacks and maple syrup!'—a combination of fish and trees, I suppose! 'Waffles!' 'Buckwheat cakes!' 'Grits!' 'Dip toast!'—is that another word for 'pap'?"—and so on, with a running commentary, down the bill-of-fare.
Some of these unknown dishes, however, she tried, and candidly owned were excellent, and when the breakfast was despatched, and they had returned to their own "parlor," Mrs. Frampton was visibly better disposed towards the outer world. She moved one of the ponderous chairs to the window, and produced a long roll of embroidery.
"That is what I have not seen a woman do since I arrived in the States," said Mordaunt. "I dare say they work a great deal in strict private, but never in public. They don't consider it 'the thing,' I believe. They are very angry when I say so, but it is the truth."
"Well, there is no great virtue that I can see in doing this sort of rubbish," said his aunt, in her most amiable manner. "If I could do anything more useful, I should. But I can talk much better when I am pulling something about; and Grace and I are going to have a long gossip, while you go and smoke your cigar, and bring us back the news out of one of those dreadful, wicked papers."
"You're a regular Eve, Aunt Su," laughed her nephew, as he sauntered to the door. "The woman tempted me, and I did eat."
"Ah! Adam was a poor creature," returned Mrs. Frampton, as she put on her spectacles; then, when he had left the room, "I am not at all satisfied about Mordy," she continued, as she stabbed the canvas with her needle, and a stream of sanguinary filoselle followed it.
"Why, aunty?"