Their hostess, seen by the light of her dip candles, was in perfect harmony with her entertainment. A round little woman, very neat, and terribly plain, with a full oval face, which had no other characteristic of beauty; insignificant features, and a pale skin, covered with freckles. Out of this face, however, looked a pair of small, shrewd, and kind grey eyes; their owner could be no fool.
Esther was surprised to see that her father, who was, to be sure, an old campaigner, made a very fair supper.
'In the darkness I could hardly see where we went,' he remarked. 'But I suppose your husband is the owner of the neat gardens I observed formerly near our house?'
'Wall, he would be if he was alive,' was the answer, 'but that's what he hain't ben this five year.'
'Then, do you manage them?'
'Wall, cunnel, I manage 'em better'n he did. Mr. Blumenfeld was an easy kind o' man; easy to live with, tu; but when you hev other folks to see to, it don't du no ways to let 'em hev their own head too much. An' that's what he did. He was a fust-rate gardener and no mistake; he knowed his business; but the thing he didn't know was folks. So they cheated him. La, folks ain't like flowers, not 'zactly; or if they be, as he used to say, there's thorns among 'em now and then and a weed or two!'
'Blumenfeld?' repeated the colonel. 'You are not German, surely?'
'Wall, I guess I ain't,' said the little woman, 'Not if I know myself. I ain't sayin' nothin' agin what he was; but la, there's different naturs in the world, and I'm different. Folks doos say, his folks is great for gittin' along; but he warn't; that's all I hev to say. He learned me the garden work, though; that much he did.'
'And now you manage the business?'
'I do so. Won't you hev another cup, cunnel?'