David Ritchie, he will
deem it a favor. Mr. Ritchie assures Mrs. Clive that he makes this
request in all friendliness."
I lighted a candle, folded the note and sealed it, addressed it to Mrs.
Clive, and opening the latticed door I stepped out. Walking along the
gallery until I came to the rear part of the house which faced towards
the out-buildings, I spied three figures prone on the grass under a
pecan tree that shaded the kitchen roof. One of these figures was Benjy,
and he was taking his siesta. I descended quietly from the gallery, and
making my way to him, touched him on the shoulder. He awoke and stared
at me with white eyes.
"Marse Dave!" he cried.
"Hush," I answered, "and follow me."
He came after me, wondering, a little way into the grove, where I
stopped.
"Benjy," I said, "do you know any of the servants here?"
"Lawsy, Marse Dave, I reckon I knows 'em,--some of 'em," he answered with
a grin.
"You talk to them?"
"Shucks, no, Marse Dave," he replied with a fine scorn, "I ain't no hand
at dat ar nigger French. But I knows some on 'em, and right well too."
"How?" I demanded curiously.
Benjy looked down sheepishly at his feet. He was standing pigeon-toed.
"I done c'ressed some on 'em, Marse Dave," he said at length, and there
was a note of triumph in his voice.
Pages:
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584