Once more the waiter sped away. Half a minute later he came through the swinging doors. With him was a large, coal black person in a greasy apron, and with a look of grave concern upon his face.
“Whar’s de gen’elman?” asked the newcomer.
“Thar he set,” said the waiter, pointing.
The cook presented himself at the table and bowed low.
“Boss,” he said, “I’se de cook yere an’ I strives to please. But you’ll please, suh, haf’ to ’scuse me reguardin’ yore desires ’is mawnin’ fur ’liminated aigs—an’ tha’s a fact.”
“Don’t you know how to eliminate an egg?” demanded the joker.
The cook favored him with a winning smile.
“Who, me?—w’y to be suttinly, I does. Any other time dem ’liminated aigs’d be settin’ right dar in front of you now, smokin’ hot. But to tell you de truth, boss, dey wuz a flighty nigger gal come foolin’ round de kitchen yistiddy w’ich she rightly didn’t have no business to be there neither; an’ she drapped the ’liminator an’ bruk de handle off of it.”
§ 54 A Tribute to Moderation
It befell in the old days that a mob one night took a negro out of a county jail in southern Kentucky and carried him just across the line into Tennessee and there hanged him at the roadside. As he dangled they riddled him with bullets and then kindled a fire under him with intent to destroy the body.