“Why, what’s the matter, Moses?”
“Nuffin’—oh! nuffin’—but—but when massa axes you who you is, an’ what you bin up to, an’ whar you’re a-gwine to, an’ what wages you want, jist you answer ’im in a sorter permiscuous way, an’ don’t be too partikler.”
“Wages! man, what d’ye mean?”
“Well, you’ll ’scuse me, sar,” returned the negro with an air of profound humility, “but my massa lost a old sarvint—a nigger like myself—only last munt’, an’ he wants to go on one ob his usual expeditions jus’ now, so he sends me to Batavia to git anoder man—‘a good one, you know,’ says massa,—an’ as you, sar, was good ’nuff to ax me what you should do, an’ you looked a pritty smart man, I—”
“You scoundrel!” cried Nigel, interrupting him, “do you really mean to tell me that you’ve brought me here as a hired servant?”
“Well, not zackly,” returned Moses, with solemn simplicity, “you needn’t ax no wages unless you like.”
“But what if I don’t want to take service?” demanded our hero, with a savage frown.
“You kin go home agin,” answered Moses, humbly.
Nigel could contain himself no longer. As he observed the man’s deprecatory air, and thought of his own position, he burst into a fit of hearty laughter, whereupon the negro recovered himself and smiled the smile of the guiltless.
“Come,” said Nigel at last. “Lead on, you rascal! When I see your master I shall know what to say.”