A yawning butler, an insolent footman, a snoring coachman, a drooping horse....
The last conveyance had driven away, and only a party of “b—d—y niggers,” supposed to be waiting for their daughter, was keeping the domestics from their beds.
Ernest, the bepowdered footman, believed them to be thieves, and could have sworn he saw a tablespoon in the old coon’s pocket.
Hardly able to restrain his tears, Mr. Mouth sat gazing vacuously at the floor.
“Wha’ can keep de chile?... Oh Lord ... I hope dair noddin’ wrong.”
“On such a lovely ebenin’ what is time!” Mrs. Mouth exclaimed, taking up an attitude of night-enchantment by the open door.
A remark that caused Butler, and subordinate, to cough.
“It not often I see de cosmos look so special!”
“Ef she not heah soon, we better go widout her,” Miami murmured, who was examining the visitors’ cards on the hall table undismayed by the eye of Ernest.