"It aint jist de books. I isn't so much afeard ob dem, but it's all 'long ob dat 'cad'my. I wish you'd jist take a look at 'im, fust chance ye git."
"Does he look bad?"
"No, taint jist altogeder his looks. He's de bes' lookin' boy 'long shoah. But den de way he's goin' on to talk. 'T aint nateral. He use to talk fust rate."
"Can't he talk now?"
"Yes, Miss Kinzer, he kin talk, but den de way he gits out his words. Nebber seen sech a t'ing in all my born days. Takes him eber so long jist to say good-mornin'. An' den he don't say it like he used ter. I wish you'd jist take a good look at 'im."
Mrs. Kinzer promised, and gave her black friend such comfort as she could, but Dick Lee's tongue would never again be the free and easy thing it had been. Even at home and about his commonest "chores," he was all the while struggling with his pronunciation. If he succeeded as well with the rest of his "schooling," it was safe to say that it would not be thrown away upon him.
Gloriana went her way, and the next to intrude upon Mrs. Kinzer's special domain was her son-in-law himself, accompanied by his rosy bride.
"We've got a plan!"
"You? A plan? What about?"
"Dab and his friends."