"Yes, suh, he went out to some o' dem outlandish places."
"Hold on, sir, hold on, I am a West Indian myself."
"I do' mean no erfence, 'ceptin' dat John allus was of a rovin' dispersition."
"Very well, you know no more about your brother after his departure for the West Indies?"
"No, suh."
"Well, it is my mission to tell you the rest of the story. Your brother John landed at Cuba, and after working about some years and living frugally, he went into the coffee business, in which he became rich."
"Rich?"
"Rich, sir."
"Why, bless my soul, who'd 'a evah thought that of John? Why, suh, I'm sho'ly proud to hyeah it. Why don't he come home an' visit a body?"
"Ah, why?" said Mr. Scatters dramatically. "Now comes the most painful part of my mission. 'In the midst of life we are in death.'" Mr. Scatters sighed, Isaac sighed and wiped his eyes. "Two years ago your brother departed this life."