"Cap'n, yessuh. Goin' 'way!... When does us staht?"
"Us don't start. For once in my life I hope to go some place and come back without being hounded by my Wildcat nigger."
"Cap'n, yessuh. Whut beats me is how yo' aims to git along widout me takin' keer o' you. You neveh wuz no single thriveh."
"I'll get along without you. Go in and lock up the trunks."
"Mis' Cap'n Jack gwine wid you?"
"I'll say she is. Whither I goeth there shall she also go. Git those trunks fixed up."
With the departure of the master of the house a cloud of melancholy settled about the Wildcat which was not dispelled until suppertime.
3.
On Wednesday night the Wildcat soused himself with bay rum and musk. About his neck, in lieu of a collar, he wrapped the spliced sleeves of a discarded silk shirt whose cerise dyes had barred it from Captain Jack's wardrobe. On his feet he wore a pair of patent leather violins whose tight interiors had been plentifully massaged with axle grease.
He started out with his mascot. "C'm on heah, Lily—you stahts gittin' social wid quality folks. How come dese shoes pinches all de time sho' beats me. By rights I weahs twelves. Man whut sold dese shoes said dey wuz fifteens—feels like sho' take bofe to make 'at much. But when dey sees dis heah neckerchief dey won't notice de shoes."