friend of my mother perhaps, had chanced to hear of my return.
Meanwhile the negro stood gazing at me with open mouth, and the sight
of him partially restored my presence of mind.

"Is she English, boy?"

"No, sah, she am a French lady, sah, if ebber dar was one in dis hyar
province. She libs ober yonder in de Rue Dumaine, an' she said to me,
'Yah, Alphonse, you follow dat dar young feller wid de long rifle under
his arm an' de coon-skin cap, an' fotch him hyar to me!' Dem am de
bery words wat she done said, sah, when you went by our house a
half-hour ago."

"Is your mistress young or old?"

The black chuckled, his round face assuming a good-natured grin.

"Fo' de Lawd, Massa, but dat am jest de way wid all you white folks!"
he ejaculated. "If she was ol', an' wrinkled, an' fat, den dat settle
de whole ting. Jest don't want to know no mor'."

"Well," I interrupted impatiently, "keep your moralizing to yourself
until we become better acquainted, and answer my question--Is the woman
young?"

My tone was sufficiently stern to sober him, his black face
straightening out as if it had been ironed.

"Now, don't you go an' git cross, Massa Benteen, case a laugh don't
nebber do nobody no hurt," he cried, shrinking back as if expecting a