“Yes, sah,” and Brick showed every tooth in his head.
His color was indeed somewhat brickish. The Judge had never seen a colored boy of just this shade before, and he suspected keenly that he had not been washed for some time.
“You like this little girl?” he said, indicating Bethany.
“She nice little girl, sah,” responded the boy, opening his mouth so alarmingly wide that the Judge saw not only his whole stock of teeth, but such an expanse of pink gums, tongue, and throat that he gazed at them in mild fascination. His words were fairly swallowed up in this pink gulf.
“She nice little girl,” Brick continued. “She good to dogs an’ cats. I like dogs meself. Me an’ Bylow’s great friends,” and he nodded toward the dog, which had calmed down and was lying at his feet panting and with half-shut eyes.
“Daddy Grandpa,” said Bethany, in sudden anxiety, “where are they going to sleep? O, where are they going to sleep?”
The Judge put up a hand and vigorously stroked his mustache. He knew Bethany’s generous heart prompted her to wish for them the best in the house.
“Well,” he replied, kindly, “we’re pretty well filled up inside, but there’s a good room out in the stable opposite Roblee’s.”
“Daddy Grandpa,” she said, timidly, “there’s the big spare room—the blue velvet room with the gilt furniture.”
“My friend Colonel Hansom is to occupy that next week,” said the Judge. “It would be awkward to turn out the boy for him.”