"The worst of it is," continued Prudy, glad of her sister's sympathy, such as it was, "Colonel Allen is a lawyer."
"Well, isn't lawyers as good as white folks?"
"The only trouble with lawyers, Dotty, is, that they can't write so you can read it. My father told me so. He said their writing was like turkey's tracks. He said it looked as if a fly had got into the inkstand, and crawled over the paper."
Dotty's face was the picture of distress.
"It's a drefful thing to grow up a nidiot," said she, drawing her mouth down as she had seen Prudy do when beseeching her to learn the alphabet. "Don't he know all the letters, skippin' about?"
Here aunt Louise's voice was heard, from the piazza. She asked if the children would like to go with her and see Mrs. Gray's baby. After a little washing and brushing they were ready.
"Auntie," said Dotty, as they walked along, "you've got my porkmonnaie."
"Very true; so I have."
"How much money is in my porkmonnaie?"
"Two dollars and a half. Why?"