oysters filling the room. These having disappeared, as had the former
one, together with the waffles and coffee, and the master's appetite
being now on the wane, general conversation became possible.

"Did Mr. Rutter look ill, Todd?" he continued, picking up the thread of
the talk where he had left it. "He wasn't very well when I left."

"No, sah,--neber see him look better. Been up a li'l' late I
reckon,--Marse Harry mos' gen'ally is a li'l' mite late, sah--" Todd
chuckled. "But dat ain't nuthin' to dese gemmans. But he sho' do wanter
see ye. Maybe he stayed all night at Mister Seymour's. If he did an' he
yered de rumpus dese rapscallions kicked up--yes--dat's you I'm talkin'
to"--and he looked toward the dogs--"he'll be roun' yere 'fo' ye gits
fru yo' bre'kfus'. Dey do say as how Marse Harry's mighty sweet in dat
quarter. Mister Langdon Willits's snoopin' roun' too, but Miss Kate
ain't got no use fer him. He ain't quality dey say."

His master let him run on; Aunt Jemima was Todd's only outlet during his
master's absence, and as this was sometimes clogged by an uplifted
broom, he made the best use he could of the opportunities when he and
his master were alone. When "comp'ny" were present he was as
close-mouthed as a clam and as noiseless as a crab.

"Who told you all this gossip, Todd?" exclaimed St. George with a smile,
laying down his knife and fork.

"Ain't nary one tol' me--ain't no use bein' tol'. All ye got to do is to
keep yo' eyes open. Be a weddin' dar 'fo' spring. Look out, sah--dat
shell's still a-sizzlin'. Mo' coffee, sah? Wait till I gits some hot
waffles--won't take a minute!" and he was out of the room and downstairs