“No, ma’am,” interrupted Sam, with a warning look at the colored woman. “Marse Donahue, he jes’ give orders and specs ’em to be kerried out like he says.”
“I feel as if Mr. Donahue were a sort of spirit always hovering near us,” said Billie, when the two colored people had disappeared, “a kind of guardian angel. I wish papa had told us something about him.”
“A very substantial spirit,” observed Miss Campbell, “showering upon us all these gifts of fruits and flowers and candy.”
“What does Mr. Donahue look like, Sam,” Nancy asked the colored man later. “Is he tall and thin?”
“No, ma’am; he ain’t what you might call tall. An’ he ain’t short neither.
“Medium, then?”
“Not jes’ exactly mejum, neither, ma’am.”
“Go way, Sam. You don’t know what he is. I don’t believe you ever saw Mr. Donahue.”
“Ain’t I don’ tol’ you I knowed Marse Donahue twenty years? But I couldn’t paint no picture of him, Missy.”
“What color is his hair, Sam?” asked Mary.