"No, no, I must trust to you. My debts will all be paid, as well as yours, and there will be no stain upon my name, that's one comfort," and he groaned as if other comforts just then were not many.
"Phœbe, Phœbe," said he as his son left the room; "what are you doing there?"
"Tinking, sar," and a dark face, trimmed round with white and yellow muslin, instantly appeared at the bed-side with the next cordial for the patient. "Thinking, eh? What are you thinking about pray?"
"Tinking about one bery bad debt, sar. Wondering if it's going to be paid along de rest."
"What do you mean, woman? How dare you think about my concerns, or listen to what I say to my son?"
"Couldn't help it, sar. 'Sides, if dat 'ar debt ain't paid, him leab a bery big stain dat never come out nohows."
"What debt, woman? You shall be paid well, for you've been a faithful nurse to me, Phœbe."
"Dat's noting, sar; Phœbe not tinking about pay down here, but de big bill up dere," and she pointed upward, "must be paid by somebody, sar. By de good Lord on His cross all blot out in His precious blood, or—don't disb'lieve it 'cause poor old Phœbe say it—or by massa his own self in de eberlasting prison, whar de poor debtors neber reach de end ob der 'count."
"Stuff and nonsense, woman," said the old man angrily.
"True as de Bible, sar. How's massa going to do 'bout it?" persisted the nurse.