anything to read. And I want to shop and call on Dolly‚Äôs friend‚ÅÝ‚Äîshe‚Äôs going soon.‚Äù
“All right. Can you be ready by eleven?”
She considered.
‚ÄúYes‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI reckon,‚Äù she drawled, prettily swinging her foot and watching the treetops above the distant swamp.
Harry Cresswell, left alone, rang the bell for the butler.
“Still thinking of going, are you, Sam?” asked Cresswell, carelessly, when the servant appeared. He was a young, light-brown boy, his manner obsequious.
‚ÄúWhy, yes, sir‚ÅÝ‚Äîif you can spare me.‚Äù
“Spare you, you black rascal! You’re going anyhow. Well, you’ll repent it; the North is no place for niggers. See here, I want lunch for two at one o’clock.” The directions that followed were explicit and