“No, Marsa, I ain't 'zactly.”
Ephum put down the duster, peered out of the door of the private office, and closed it softly.
“Marse Comyn?”
“Yes?”
“Marse Comyn, I ain't got no use fo' dat Misteh Hoppa', Ise kinder sup'stitious 'bout him, Marsa.”
The Colonel put down his newspaper.
“Has he treated you badly, Ephum?” he asked quietly.
The faithful negro saw another question in his master's face. He well knew that Colonel Carvel would not descend to ask an inferior concerning the conduct of a superior.
“Oh no, suh. And I ain't sayin' nuthin' gin his honesty. He straight, but he powerful sharp, Marse Comyn. An' he jus' mussiless down to a cent.”
The Colonel sighed. He realized that which was beyond the grasp of the negro's mind. New and thriftier methods of trade from New England were fast replacing the old open-handedness of the large houses. Competition had begun, and competition is cruel. Edwards, James, & Company had taken a Yankee into the firm. They were now Edwards, James, & Doddington, and Mr. Edwards's coolness towards the Colonel was manifest since the rise of Eliphalet. They were rivals now instead of friends. But Colonel Carvel did not know until after years that Mr. Hopper had been offered the place which Mr. Doddington filled later.