“Den it was you, Marse Washington. I’s heah, suh.”
“No, it wasn’t Marse Washington, either.”
“De good lan’! who did ring her, den?”
“Lord Rossmore rang it!”
The old negro flung up his hands and exclaimed:
“Blame my skin if I hain’t gone en forgit dat name agin! Come heah, Jinny—run heah, honey.”
Jinny arrived.
“You take dish-yer order de lord gwine to give you I’s gwine down suller and study dat name tell I git it.”
“I take de order! Who’s yo’ nigger las’ year? De bell rung for you.”
“Dat don’t make no diffunce. When a bell ring for anybody, en old marster tell me to—”