VI


I did not get back to New Orleans till late in the fall. In the office
they told me that Manouvrier had been in twice to see if I had returned,
and they had promised to send him word of my arrival. But I said no, and
went to see him.

I found new lines of care on his brow, but the old kindness was still in
his eye. We exchanged a few words of greeting and inquiry, and then there
came a pause, which I broke.

"Well, stuffing birds better than ever, I suppose."

"Naw," he looked around upon his work, "I dawn't think. I dunno if I stoff
him quite so good like biffo'." Another pause. Then, "I think I mek out
what I do wid doze money now."

"Indeed," said I, and noticed that his face was averted from his wife.

She lifted her eyes to his broad back with a quizzical smile, glanced at
me knowingly, and dropped them again upon her sewing, sighed:

"Ah-bah!" Then she suddenly glanced at me with a pretty laugh and added,
"Since all that time he dunno what he goin' to make with it. If he trade
with it I thing he don't stoff bird no mo', and I thing he lose it
bis-ide--ha, ha, ha!--and if he keep it all time lock in doze bank