“What is your master’s name?”
“Cunnel Benjamime Flewellen, suh.”
“Colonel Benjamin Flewellen; yes; I know the colonel well. What are you going back there for?”
“Who? Me? Dat my home, suh. I bin brung up right dar, suh—right ’longside er Marster en my young mistiss, suh.”
“Miss Ellen Flewellen,” said Lawyer Terrell, reflectively. At this remark the negro showed a slight interest in the conversation; but his interest did not improve his appearance.
“Yasser, dat her name, sho; but we-all call her Miss Nelly.”
“A very pretty name, Ananias,” remarked Lawyer Terrell.
“Lord! yasser.”
The negro looked up at this, but Lawyer Terrell had his eyes fixed on the muddy road ahead of him. The lawyer was somewhat youngish himself, but his face had a hard, firm expression common to those who are in the habit of having their own way in the court-house and elsewhere.
“Where have you been, Ananias?” said the lawyer presently.