“Last night, ma’am—no, the night before the night, ma’am, ee already dis ma’aning, Bekky come in, and find me da smoke me pipe. ‘Good night.—’”
“What has that to do with Mr. Willmington, Jack? Tell me where your master is, will you,” said Mrs. Willmington, still more angry.
“Me da tell you, missus,” answered Jack. “‘Good night, buddee Jack,’ say Bekky, says she. ‘Good night, sissee Bekky,’ me say, says I. ‘Awh! Jack!’ Bekky say, ‘wha tobacca you da smoke dey Jack, ee smell bad! da——’”
“No more of this, Jack,” said Mrs. Willmington; “tell me.”
“Tap, missus, tap, if you plase; me da come to it, me da come to it now,” said Jack.
Mrs. Willmington looked resignation itself.
“‘Da tobacca I buy dis ma’aning, Bekky,’ me say ma’am,” continued Jack; “and dat was all. Last night wen me finish de fowl, and bin da clean the kitchen, who me see, but Bekky. ‘Good even, buddee Jack,’ she said, says she. ‘Good even, sissee,’ I say, says I. ‘Look, some good tobacca a bring foo you, Jack,’ she say; and give me a bundle tobacca. So last night, when I sen in the dinna, I went into the garden foo try dis tobacca.
“Me sit down unda de bread-fruit tree; me tink me see somebody walk in de garden. Garamighty! me say, wha jumbee want early, early so. Me look agin, and me see de purson hab big, big beard like Paniole. Me frieghten! Da who you, me bin go halla out, and bin da go run away, when somebody hold me fram behind, and chucked grass and ivery ting into my mout, tie me han an foot, and trow me into the little room way you fin’ me ma’am.”
“And where is your master?” asked Mrs. Willmington.