Jonas stalked out of the room pretending to be very angry, but he began to chuckle as soon as his back was turned. "Sanders is out of his sphere," he said to himself. "More than half the time he should have a big tent over his head and be rigged up like a clown." Mr. Sanders watched the door through which old Jonas had gone, as if he expected him to come back. Then he called out to him: "Jonas! be shore to have somethin' for supper that me an' that child can eat!"
Old Jonas heard the voice of Mr. Sanders, but he paid no attention to its purport. He went on into the kitchen where Adelaide and Lucindy were having a conversation. He tried to smile at the child, but he realised that his face was not made for smiles. It may have been different in the days of his boyhood, and probably was, but since he had devoted himself to the heartless problems that beset a man who is money-mad, the facial muscles that smiling brings into play had become so set in other directions, and had been so frequently used for other purposes, that they made but a poor success of a smile. Realising this, he turned to Lucindy, with a business-like air. "Lucindy, Mr. Sanders is coming to supper; I reckon he knows how you can cook, for he jumped at the invitation. And then there's the little girl; we must have something nice and sweet for her," he went on.
"No, Mr. Jonas!" Lucindy exclaimed; "nothin' sweet fer dis chile; des a little bread an' milk, er maybe a little hot-water tea."
"Well, you know about that," remarked Jonas, with a sigh; "we shall have to get a nurse for the child, I reckon."
Lucindy drew a deep breath. "A nuss fer dat chile! Whar she gwineter stay at? Not in dis kitchen! not in dis house! not on dis lot! No, suh! Ef she do, she'll hafter be here by herse'f. I'll drive her off, an' den you'll go out dar on de porch an' call her back; an' wid dat, I'll say good bye an' far'-you-well! Yes, la! I kin stan' dis chile, here, an' I kin 'ten' ter what little ten'in' ter she'll need—but a new nigger on de place! an' a triflin' gal at dat! No suh, no suh! you'll hafter scuzen me dis time, an' de nex' time, too."
Old Jonas walked from one end of the kitchen to the other, his face puckered up with anger, and looking as if he were on the point of bursting into tears. "Well, by the livin' Jimminy! can't I do what I please in my own house? Can't I get my own niece a nurse if I want to?"
Lucindy placed both hands under her apron, and looked as if she were swelling up. "Yasser," she exclaimed; "yasser, an' yasser, an' yasser. An' whiles you're gittin' a nurse, don't let it 'scape off'n your min' dat you'll want a cook!" She turned to the child, and the tone of her voice couldn't have been more different if it had come from the lips of another woman: "Honey, don't git too close ter de stove; ef yo' frock ketches afire you won't need no nuss. Mr. Billy Sanders'll be a-knockin' at dat do' present'y, an' supper ain't nigh ready—an' dey won't be no supper ef I got ter be crowded outer my own kitchen."
Adelaide looked and listened, and finally she said: "Aunt Lucindy, Cally-Lou says she doesn't like to be where people are mad and quarreling. She's afraid she'll have to go off somewhere else."
"Whar is Cally-Lou, honey? an' how big is she?"
"Oh, she's lot's bigger than me," replied Adelaide, very primly, "and she's sitting on the floor right by me. She says that fussing gives her nervy posteration."