“Well, Jabez?” said his mistress, after the salutations were over, “How are you getting along!”
“Well, mist'is, not very well, not at all well, ma'am. Had mighty bad luck. 'Bout my wife,” he added, explanatorily. He pulled down his lips, and looked the picture of solemnity.
I saw from Mrs. Meriwether's mystified look that she did not know what he considered “bad luck.” She could not tell from his reference whether his wife was better or worse.
“Is she—ah? What—oh—how is Amanda?” she demanded finally, to solve the mystery.
“Mandy! Lord! 'm, 'Mandy was two back. She 's de one runned away wid Tom Halleck, an' lef' me. I don't know how she is. I never went ahter her. I wuz re-ally glad to git shet o' her. She was too expansive. Dat ooman want two frocks a year. When dese women begin to dress up so much, a man got to look out. Dee ain't always dressin' fer you! ”
“Indeed!” But Mrs. Meriwether's irony was lost on Jabez.
“Yes, 'm; dat she did! Dis one 's name was Sairey.” He folded his hands and waited, the picture of repose and contentment.
“Oh, yes. So; true. I 'd forgotten that 'Mandy left you. But I thought the new one was named Susan!” observed Mrs. Meriwether.
“No, 'm; not de newes ' one. Susan—I had her las' Christmas; but she would n' stay wid me. She was al'ays runnin' off to town; an' you know a man don' want a ooman on wheels. Ef de Lawd had intended a ooman to have wheels, he 'd 'a' gi'n 'em to her, would n' he?”
“Well, I suppose he would,” assented Mrs. Meriwether. “And this one is Sarah? Well, how is——?”