“Why—why—ye’—yes. I jes’ thought I would walk down that way in yo’ int’rus’.”
“My! but you sholy has got yo’se’f up fit to kill.”
“When de genul sen’s his messengers out to negoterate, dey mus’ go in full unifo’m, so’s to impress de people dat dey genul is somebody.”
“Jesso,” assented the elder man, “but I don’t want you to be waihin’ out yo’ clothes in my suhvice, ’Lonzo.”
“Oh, dat’s all right, Mistah Dunkin; hit’s a pleasuah, I assuah you.”
“How’s things comin’ on, anyhow, down to Miss Callena’s?”
“Couldn’t be bettah, suh; dey’s most puspicious. Hit’ll soon be time fu’ you to come in an’ tek mattahs in yo’ own han’s.”
“Do you tell Miss Callena ’bout de houses an’ lan’?”
“Oh, yes; I tells huh all about dat.”