“You see, I promised the Federal officer at the court-house to pay everyone wages,” he began with an effort, looking at the old woman.
“How much does you pay Miss Bessie?”
“How much what?”
“Wages.” He had no idea one word could convey so much contempt.
“Why, nothing—of course—”
Old Krenda lifted her head.
“I’m gwine ’way.”
“What!”
“I’m feared you’ll charge me bode!” She had expanded. “I ken git a little house somewheres, I reckon—or I ken go to th’ city and nuss—chillun.”
“Mammy—you don’t understand—” The Doctor was never in such a dilemma. If his wife would only come in! What a fool he was, not to have known that his wife knew more about it than he did.