It sho was strange, for people what was raised together, and played with each-another from the days of their younger youth, not to be able to ’zern anybody condition when they seen them lookin’ like somh’n heavy was layin’ on their mind....
“De man ain’ know me yet; an’ hyuh I bin servin’ ’im thoo evvy kind o’ close quarters all dese many years? Lawd, Lawd! Hyuh somh’n else done comed up povokin’,” he went on cogitating aloud; hurrying through his work to get upstairs, where he knew he would find Mr. Amos in his room, lying down, reading.
Hearing Felo’s habitual goat-like sniff with which he playfully announced his arrival, Mr. Amos turned and saw him leaning against the door frame, waiting to be invited to have a seat. Knowing Felo’s propensity for all kinds of “good stimalashun,” and wanting to see him in a pleasant frame of mind, Mr. Amos gave him the keys of the armoire, and told him to get the bottle of Scotch whiskey he would find on the shelf, and help himself to a comforting drink.
Felo brought the bottle and two glasses and put them on the washstand, and sat down, looking at the bottle without speaking.
“Don’t you want a drink?” Mr. Amos asked in surprise. “Lord knows you look like you need one.”
“How long you bin had dis bottle o’ w’iskey?” Felo asked with quiet artfulness.
“About two weeks.”
... “Is you know de bottle open, an’ some de licker gone from out it?” Felo asked, with a knowing side glance at Mr. Amos.