"Yais, Massa Tom," answered the colored man. "Yo' dad an' anodder gen'mans hab jest gone in de house."
"Who's the other gentleman, Rad?" asked Tom, and the negro, glad of an excuse to cease the weeding of the onion bed, came shuffling forward.
"It's de gen'mans what is allers saying his prayers," he answered.
"Saying his prayers?" repeated Tom.
"Yep. Yo' knows what I means, Massa Tom. He's allers askin' a blessin' on his shoes, or his rubbers, or his necktie."
"Oh, you mean Mr. Wakefield Damon."
"Yais, sah, dat's who I done means. Mr. Wakefull Lemon--dat's sho' him."
At that moment there sounded, within the house, the voices of Mr. Swift, and some one else in conversation.
"And so Tom has decided to make a run to the Quaker City in the Butterfly, to-morrow," Mr. Swift was saying, "and he's going to see if he can be of any service to this Mr. Fenwick."
"Bless my watch chain!" exclaimed the other voice. "You don't say so! Why I know Mr. Fenwick very well--he and I used to go to school together, but bless my multiplication tables--I never thought he'd amount to anything! And so he's built an airship; and Tom is going to help him with it? Why, bless my collar button, I've a good notion to go along and see what happens. Bless my very existence, but I think I will!"