"Why, dat same Bossy Bradley. Ob coas' Mass' Henry hadn't no money on de groun', for who's agwine to be a-toatin' two thousan' dollars 'bout 'im? So he guv de planter Bradley his writin' fo' de amount—which dem call a purmissory note. Wal, dat 'ere note arn't been paid yet; an' it's de no-payment ob it dat make Mass' Henry 'pear sech fr'en's wi' mass' planter Bradley. Now, sar, ye's got de explication ob de whole sarcumstance."
"I hope it is the true one."
"What, massa! Why for you hope dat? You say you Mass' Henry fr'en'? Sure you no wish 'im two thousan' dollar debt to Bossy Bradley?"
It was not strange the negro should express surprise at my speech. I had answered mechanically, and without thought of the interpretation he might put upon it—thinking only of myself, and the relief his explanation had caused me.
It was now my turn to explain. I could not leave Jake in the belief that I was gratified to hear of his master's indebtedness.
"No, no!" I responded, endeavoring to explain away what I had said. "I merely meant that I hoped it was no worse. Two thousand dollars is not much—for a rich planter to pay."
"Lor', massa! It am a big heap, two thousan' dollar! Great big heap fo' young Mass' Henry. He nebba pay dat hisseff, till de ole squire die, an' leab um some ob dat 'ere plantashun in Tennessee. He no make money hyar like Bossy Bradley. Ah, Mass' Henry 'pend more'n he make. Dat dis chile am sure ob. Cuss dem cards, anyhow! Dey's de ruin ob ebberybody dat teches um, 'ceptin' de gammelin' sportsmen themselves. T'ank de Lor'! I hear Mass' Henry sw'a he nebba tech dem no more. Dat's one bit o' sattafacshun, it is."
Notwithstanding that I feared being thought too inquisitive, the intelligence displayed by my sable companion tempted me to inquire further.
"Does Mr. Bradley often visit your master?"
"Well, sar, dat depend—"