"What's your name besides Jeff?" asked Arthur, amused at the loquacity of the black.
"Same as my father's, sah."
"And what is your father's?"
"Well," said the negro, twisting a lock of wool in his fingers, "dat's a puzzler! His fust name's Voltaire, and I guess his last one's Delancey, 'cause he belongs to master, and his belongings generally take his name—sich as Delancey's hosses and Delancey's niggers; but bress de Lord! I 'spec you's sleepy; good-night, young massars—why didn't I tink of dis afore?"
"Good-night," said Guly, at the same time lifting a book from his trunk.
Jeff reached the door and laid his hand on the knob to go out, but as he cast his eye back at the brothers, he stopped short, then walked towards them on tip-toe.
"'Scuse me, massa," said he to Guly, "but I jist happened to tink mebbe dat big book was de Bible."
"And you are right."
"Was you gwine to read it, sah!"