"I don't know as to that. I suppose, however, that the Marshal appoints his own deputies. Do you want someone appointed?"
"Me? Oh, no," and walking off he added to himself: "It's someone I don't want app'inted. That's the question with me." Margaret came in and he inquired if dinner were nearly ready.
"As soon as the co'n pone's done," she answered, and he swore that he was as hungry as a bear in the spring of the year. The old negro mammy came to the door and with a peculiar softness which ever characterized his voice when speaking to her, he bade her come in. "Set down," he said, bringing a chair for her. "You look monst'us tired. Now, jest rock yo'se'f thar an' putty soon you'll git rested."
"Thank you, Mars Jasper. An' I hopes you's all well, bof in de flesh an' in de sight o' de Lawd."
"Ah, mammy," said the old man, "you never forgit the Lawd, do you?"
"How kin I, Mars Jasper, w'en I so close ter Him. An' Marster, dis is my birfday."
"Is that so? And how old air you to-day, mammy?"
"I doan hardly know, but I's eider eighty-fo' ur eighty-six."
"An' nobody's life could have been given mo' away in love to others."
"I hopes dat my soul is white, Mars Jasper."