Parson Jones was disappointed.

"Well, now, Jools, you know, I don't think that was right. I reckon you
must be a plum Catholic."

M. St.-Ange shrugged. He would not deny his faith.

"I am a _Catholique, mais_"--brightening as he hoped to recommend
himself anew--"not a good one."

"Well, you know," said Jones--"where's Colossus? Oh! all right. Colossus
strayed off a minute in Mobile, and I plum lost him for two days. Here's
the place; come in. Colossus and this boy can go to the kitchen.--Now,
Colossus, what _air_ you a-beckonin' at me faw?"

He let his servant draw him aside and address him in a whisper.

"Oh, go 'way!" said the parson with a jerk. "Who's goin' to throw me?
What? Speak louder. Why, Colossus, you shayn't talk so, saw. 'Pon my
soul, you're the mightiest fool I ever taken up with. Jest you go down
that alley-way with this yalla boy, and don't show yo' face untell yo'
called!"

The negro begged; the master wrathily insisted.

"Colossus, will you do ez I tell you, or shell I hev to strike you,
saw?"

"O Mahs Jimmy, I--I's gwine; but"--he ventured nearer--"don't on no