“Oh dear no!” interposed Lilly. “Sally a’n’t dumb; she’s awrful sharp with ’er tongue!”
“She ought to be deaf anyhow, considering the row she kicks up down there!”
“Come now, Geo’ge, it’s time we was goin’. So pick up de baskit an’ go ahead.”
Bidding Mrs Lilly an affectionate adieu, the two shaves left the cellar, to the intense relief of poor Hester, who scarce knew whether to laugh or cry over the visit. She had been so eagerly anxious to speak to Foster, yet had managed to keep her promise in spite of the peculiarly trying circumstances.
“Peter,” said the middy, when they had got well out of the town on their way home, “what made you say ‘dumb’ so emphatically when you descended into that cellar?”
“Did I say ‘dumb?’” returned the negro, with an inquiring look at the clouds.
“You certainly did.”
“’Phatically, too?”
“Yes, most emphatically.”
“Well, now, das most remarkably strange!”