"All dat's de naked trufe," exclaimed Lucindy, "kaze Miss Betty come out ter de kitchen an' tol' me whar Randall wuz, an' gi' me de key er de do', an' I tuck him vittles an' clean cloze plum twel he got away. I'd 'a' gone wid Miss Betty, but I know'd dat boy would come back here ef he wa'n't dead, an' I stayed an' waited fer 'im twel des now. You may have de idee dat I'm quare, but Randall is my own chile."
By this time, Mr. Sanders had righted his coat and hat, and was now regarding the negro with some curiosity. "Lucindy ain't the only one that's been a-waitin' fer you," he said. "I reckon that old Tuttle and his crowd have been doin' some waitin' the'rselves; an' I know mighty well that I'm one of the waiters. How much do you charge me for knockin' ol' Tuttle in sight of the Promised Land, and how much will you charge me for hittin' him another side-wipe?"
"No, suh, Mr. Sanders! Not me! I ain't never lost my senses sence that day in the cotton-patch; no matter what you do, I'll never see red any more; I've done tried myself an' know. No more red fer me—not in dis world!"
"Old Tuttle!" snapped Mr. Jonas Whipple. "I wish the buzzards had him!" Then he turned to Randall. "Stay, if you want to stay. I've plenty of work for you to do. Sanders, can't you find a job for him at a pinch?"
"Mercy, yes!" replied Mr. Sanders; "I've got jobs that have grown gray waitin' for some un to do 'em."
"Stay! stay!" cried old Jonas, in his harsh voice, "and if old Tuttle bothers you, come to me or go to Mr. Sanders there, and we'll see who has the longest arm!"
"Tooby shore!" assented Mr. Sanders, "an' likewise who's got the longest money-purse. But what's betwixt you an' Tuttle?"
"Why," said old Jonas, "he borrowed a thousand dollars from me the second year of the war, and after the surrender crawled under the exemption act. Now if he had come to me like a man—I'll not say like a gentleman, for that is beyond him—if he had come to me and said that he found it impossible to pay the money I had loaned him to keep the sheriff out of his yard, I'd have told him plainly to go on about his business, and pay me when he could. Now, I propose to make it as hot as pepper for him, especially since he has developed into a scalawag. The latest report is, that he is one of the officials of the Union League."
Old Jonas paused, and his bead-like eyes glittered maliciously. "Sanders," he went on, "it isn't often I ask a man to do me a favour, but I'm going to ask one of you. It will pay you to do it," he added, observing the shadow of a doubt on Mr. Sanders's face.
Adelaide's Bishop seemed to be very serious, but there was a twinkle in his eye. He passed his hand over his mouth, in order to drive away a smile that threatened to become insubordinate. "Would it be troublin' you too much, Jonas," he said, "ef I was to ax you to pay me in advance?"