"No, no—no colonel," she said; "me wants you—me no care for colonels." What could she possibly want with me? I had never seen the woman before, or any body like her, except a picture of the Queen of Sheba when she was on a visit to Solomon. Could this woman come from Sheba? Could she take me for—no, no—she couldn't possibly take me for Solomon. So I was quite non-plussed.
"You no get no letter, Massa Sib, to tell you we was to come—eh?"
A letter? a letter?—I had had a hundred and fifty letters, but put them all into a box. How was it possible for me to read such a number? and who did she mean by us? How many more of then were coming?
"Massa Sib vill be so fond of him's babba—him vill"——
A dreadful thought came into my head—a conspiracy to extort money—a declaration at Bow Street—a weekly allowance. "Woman!" I said, "what, in heaven's name, do you mean by babba?"
"Dee little babb; it is so pretty—so like him papa."
"And whose baby is it? for I suppose it's a baby you mean, by your chatter about a babb."
"Your's. Oh! you will so lubb it."
"Mine? you detestable impostor, I never had such a thing in all my life."
"And here it is—oh, dee pretty dear!"