We talked of old times and old friends, and I told Aunt Fountain that I had come to Rockville for the purpose of visiting in the neighborhood of the Tomlinson Place.
"Den I gwine wid you, suh," she cried, shaking her head vigorously. "I gwine wid you." And go she did.
"I been layin' off ter go see my young mistiss dis long time," said Aunt Fountain, the next day, after we had started. "I glad I gwine deer in style. De niggers won' know me skacely, ridin' in de buggy dis away."
"Your young mistress?" I inquired.
"Yes, suh. You know Miss Lady w'en she little gal. She grown 'oman now."
"Well, who is this Trunion I have heard of?"
"He monst'ous nice w'ite man, suh. He married my young mistiss. He monst'ous nice w'ite man."
"But who is he? Where did he come from?"
Aunt Fountain chuckled convulsively as I asked these questions.
"We-all des pick 'im up, suh. Yes, suh; we-all des pick 'im up. Ain' you year talk 'bout dat, suh? I dunner whar you bin at ef you ain' never is year talk 'bout dat. He de fus' w'ite man w'at I ever pick up, suh. Yes, suh; de ve'y fus' one."