"Why, Mammy, what have I done now? Wasn't that new dress what you wanted?
You can change it, you know, for anything you like."
"Law, chile, 'tain't me. Yo ole Mammy mighty proud o' them dress goods—they's too fine fo ole nigger like me. 'Tain't nothin' yo done to other folks, Mars Harry. Hit's what yo all's doin' to yoself." A tear stole down the dusky cheek. "Think I can't see how yo—yo plumb tuckered out? Yo ain't slep in yo bed fo three nights 'ceptin' jest fo a hour one mo'nin' when other folks was er gettin' up, an' only the Good Lawd knows when yo eats."
The doctor laughed. "There, there Mammy, you can see me eating now all right can't you?" But the old woman shook her head mournfully.
Harry continued, "One of your dinners, you know, is worth at least six of other folks' cooking. Fact—" he added grimly, "I believe I might safely say a dozen." Then he gave her a laughing description of his attempt to cook breakfast for himself and the ten children at the Masons that morning.
The old woman was proudly indignant, "Dem po'r triflin' white trash! To think o' yo' doin' that to sech as them! Ain't no sense 'tall in sech doin's, no how, Mars Harry. What right dey got to ax yo', any how? Dey shore ain't got no claim on yo'—an' yo' ain't got no call to jump every time sech as them crooks they fingers."
Dr. Harry shook his head solemnly.
"Now Mam Liz, I'm afraid you're an aristocrat."
"Cos I's a 'ristocrat. Ain't I a Abbott? Ain't I bo'n in de fambly in yo' grandaddy's time—ain't I nuss yo' Pa an' yo? 'Ristocrat! Huh! Deed I is. No sah, Mars Harry, yo' ought to know, yo ain't got no call to sarve sech as them!"
"I don't know," he returned slowly, "I'm afraid I have."
"Have what?"