"Mist' Wash'ton," said Alek at last, in a quavering voice, "I raikon I gwine wait yere see what you gwine do ter me."
Whereupon Peter passed into a spasmodic state, in which he rolled to and fro and shook.
"Mist' Wash'ton, I hope dish yer dog 'ain't gone an' give you fitses?"
Peter sat up suddenly. "No, she 'ain't," he answered; "but she gin me er big skeer; an' fer yer 'sistance with er cobblestone, Mist' Willums, I tell you what I gwine do—I tell you what I gwine do." He waited an impressive moment. "I gwine 'lease you!"
Old Alek trembled like a little bush in a wind. "Mist' Wash'ton?"
Quoth Peter, deliberately, "I gwine 'lease you."
The old man was filled with a desire to negotiate this statement at once, but he felt the necessity of carrying off the event without an appearance of haste. "Yes, seh; thank 'e, seh; thank 'e, Mist' Wash'ton. I raikon I ramble home pressenly." He waited an interval, and then dubiously said, "Good-evenin', Mist' Wash'ton."
"Good-evenin', deacon. Don' come foolin' roun' feelin' no mellums, and I say troof. Good-evenin', deacon."
Alek took off his hat and made three profound bows. "Thank 'e, seh. Thank 'e, seh. Thank 'e, seh."
Peter underwent another severe spasm, but the old man walked off towards his home with a humble and contrite heart.