Such a situation as one kitchen not borrowing from another was incomprehensible. It had been done by the servants from time immemorial—and, though Croyden might forbid, yet Josephine would continue to do it, just the same—only, less openly.
“And see that everything is returned not later than to-morrow,” Croyden continued.
“Yass, seh! I tote’s dem back dis minut, seh!——”
“What?”
“Dese things, heah, whar yo didn’ eat, seh——”
“Do you mean—Oh, Lord!” exclaimed Croyden. 60
“Never mind, Moses. I will return them another way. Just forget it.”
“Sut’n’y, seh,” returned the darky. “Dat’s what I wuz gwine do in de fust place.”
Croyden laughed. It was pretty hopeless, he saw. The ways they had, were the ways that would hold them. He might protest, and order otherwise, until doomsday, but it would not avail. For them, it was sufficient if Colonel Duval permitted it, or if it were the custom.
“I think I shall let the servants manage me,” he thought. “They know the ways, down here, and, besides, it’s the line of least resistance.”