“Yes, I'm well now and able to work again.” There was no enthusiasm in her tone, for Hasty's news had made her realise how unwelcome the old life would be to her.
“Work! You does work all de time. My stars! de help you is to Massa John.”
“Do you think so? Do I help him?—Do I?”
“Of course you does. You tells him things to do in Sunday-school what the chillun like, an' you learns him to laugh and 'joy himself, an' a lot of things what nobody else could a-learned 'im.”
“You mustn't say 'learned him,'” Polly corrected; “you must say 'taught him.' You can't 'learn' anybody anything. You can only 'teach' them.”
“Lordy sakes! I didn't know dat.” She rolled her large eyes at her young instructress, and saw that Polly looked very serious. “She's gwine ter have anudder one a dem 'ticlar spells” thought Mandy, and she made ready to protest.
“See here, ain't you nebber——”
She was interrupted by a quick “Have you never” from Polly.
“It dun make no difference what you say,” Mandy snapped, “so long as folks understands you.” She always grew restive under these ordeals; but Polly's firm controlled manner generally conquered.
“Oh, yes, it does,” answered Polly. “I used to think it didn't; but it does. You have to say things in a certain way or folks look down on you.”