don't want to keep him? I don't want him. You better keep him."

"Don't you try to make no fool of me, old man," cried the planter.

"Oh, no!" said the other. "Oh, no! but you make a fool of yourself,
ain't it?"

The dumbfounded Colonel stared; Charlie went on:

"Yass! Belles Demoiselles is more wort' dan tree block like dis one. I
pass by dare since two weeks. Oh, pritty Belles Demoiselles! De cane was
wave in de wind, de garden smell like a bouquet, de white-cap was jump
up and down on de river; seven _belles demoiselles_ was ridin' on
horses. 'Pritty, pritty, pritty!' says old Charlie. Ah! _Monsieur le
Père_, 'ow 'appy, 'appy, 'appy!"

"Yass!" he continued--the Colonel still staring--"le Compte De Charleu
have two familie. One was low-down Choctaw, one was high up _noblesse_.
He gave the low-down Choctaw dis old rat-hole; he give Belles
Demoiselles to you gran-fozzer; and now you don't be _satisfait_. What
I'll do wid Belles Demoiselles? She'll break me in two years, yass. And
what you'll do wid old Charlie's house, eh? You'll tear her down and
make you'se'f a blame old fool. I rather wouldn't trade!"

The planter caught a big breathful of anger, but Charlie went straight
on:

"I rather wouldn't, _mais_ I will do it for you;--just the same, like
Monsieur le Compte would say, 'Charlie, you old fool, I want to shange
houses wid you.'"