A surname was disinterred by the efforts of the personage which appeared to startle the vision.
"Why, it's our name, Mr. Davidson," she exclaimed. "She said Cabell."
Aunt Basha turned inquiring, vague eyes. "Is it, honey? Is yo' a Cabell?"
And then the personage, who was, after all, cashier of the Ninth National Bank and very busy, cut in. "Ah, yes! A well known Southern name. Doubtless a large connection. And now Mrs.—ah—Cabell—"
"I'd be 'bleeged ef yo' jis' name me Aunt Basha, marster."
And marster, rather intrigué because he, being a New Englander, had never in his life addressed as "aunt" a person who was not sister to his mother or his father, nevertheless became human and smiled. "Well, then, Aunt Basha."
At a point a bit later he was again jolted when he asked the amount which his newly adopted [pg 060] "aunt" wanted to invest. For an answer she hauled high the folds of her frock, unconscious of his gasp or of the vision's repressed laughter, and went on to attack the clean purple alpaca petticoat which was next in rank, Mr. Davidson thought it wise at this point to make an errand across the room. He need not have bothered as far as Aunt Basha was concerned. When he came back she was again à la mode and held an ancient beaded purse at which she gazed. Out of a less remote pocket she drew steel spectacles, which were put on. Mr. Davidson repeated his question of how much.
"It's all hyer, marster. It's two hun'erd dollars, sir. I ben savin' up fo' twenty years an' mo', and me'n Jeems, we ben countin' it every mont, so I reckon I knows."
The man and the girl regarded the old woman a moment. "It's a large sum for you to invest," Mr. Davidson said.
"Yassir. Yas, marster. It's right smart money. But I sho' am glad to gib dis hyer to Unc' Sam for dem boys."