"Hush, sir," she said. "Your grandfather was a preacher."
"But he didn't have any fun."
"Hush, I tell you."
"I will, but did he have any fun?"
Old Master chuckled and Mistress gave him a sour look. The president coughed. "Both the law and the ministry are learned professions," he said, "and I have no doubt that our little man would grace either calling."
"Bob," said Mistress, "show me your sleeping room. You needn't come with us," she added, speaking to the president. "We will not presume to take up any more of your time—you've been so very, very kind, I assure you."
I think that the president would have urged his attendance, but that he was afraid to show how much time he could spare, so he bowed and said: "I thank you for the confidence you have reposed in me, placing your son in my charge, and I assure you that I shall do my utmost by him. Now, make yourselves perfectly at home."
Old Miss turned up her nose when she entered our room. "Whew, it smells like a bear's den," she said, and Old Master's spare frame shook with laughter. "And for pity sake, what have you got in this cup?" she asked, looking at a tin can on a table.
"Fish-worm oil," Bob spoke up rather proudly. "We dug the worms and roasted their oil out. Rub it on my legs so I can run fast."
Master snorted and Mistress turned to me. "Dan," she asked, clearing her throat with a dry rasp, "isn't this one of your negro superstitions? Didn't you put him up to it?"