"Won't we? Make it a roast, Sara, with lots of gravy and stuffing, the
way they do at Mrs. Norris's; and oh! I 'most forgot, when we came by
Miss Zeba's, the pretty lady came out and said, 'Tell your sweet sister
we will make her a morning call to-morrow, if she do please'--them's her
very words."

"'Those are,' you mean. Do try, my boy, to speak correctly, at least. I
begin to think people are judged more by the way they speak than the way
they dress, among intelligent people, so be careful."

"That's so, Sara, for Mr. Glendenning said I spoke good English, or, at
least, that because you were so wise was why my English was correct,
something like that."

"Why, what does he know of me?" astonishedly.

"Oh, nothing much, only I said you'd been to school, and so on. Sara, I
believe I'll go up-stairs and lie down till supper's ready--I'm just
about tuckered out!"

"Humph! Do you call _that_ good English, Morton?"

"Well, it's just what I am, if it ain't fine talk," yawning loudly, and
before she could correct him again, the urchin made a grimace of
defiance, and fled up the stairs to his bed in the loft.

The announcement of that supper "fit for a king" brought him down good
as new in an hour's time, and I think few royal personages ever enjoyed
a meal more, for "hunger is the best sauce" now as ever.