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But he had; and the annoyance had not ceased to be felt when, a few mornings afterward, Narcisse suddenly doubled trebled it by saying: "Doctah Seveeah," it was a cold day and the young Creole stood a moment with his back to the office fire, to which he had just given an energetic and prolonged poking, "a man was yeh, to see you, name' Bison. 'F want' to see you about Mistoo Itchlin."
The negs time you call, Mistoo Itchlin, you muz not be too much aztonizh to fine me gone from yeh. Yesseh. He's got to haugment me ad the en' of that month, an' we 'ave to-day the fifteenth Mawch. Do you smoke, Mistoo Itchlin?" He extended a package of cigarettes. Richling accepted one. "I smoke lawgely in that weatheh," striking a match on his thigh. "I feel ve'y sultwy to-day.
Narcisse bowed solemnly. "Gone, Mistoo Itchlin. Since the seventeenth of last; yesseh. 'Kig the bucket, as the povvub say." He showed an extra band of black drawn neatly around his new straw hat. "I thought it but p'opeh to put some moaning as a species of twibute." He restored the hat to his head. "You like the tas'e of that, Mistoo Itchlin?"
I wuz juz sitting in my 'oom afteh dinneh, envelop' in my 'obe de chambre, when all at once I says to myseff, 'Faw distwaction I will go and see Mistoo Itchlin!" "Will you walk in?" said the pair. Mrs. Riley, standing in the door of her parlor, made way by descending to the sidewalk. Her calico was white, with a small purple figure, and was highly starched and beautifully ironed.
But consunning the chi'og'aphy, Mistoo Itchlin, I 'ave descovvud one thing to a maul cettainty, and that is, if I 'ave something to 'ite to a young lady, I always dizguise my chi'og'aphy. Ha-ah! I 'ave learn that! You will be aztonizh' to see in 'ow many diffe'n' fawm' I can make my 'an'-a-'iting to appeah. That paz thoo my fam'ly, in fact, Mistoo Itchlin.
And the Creole rejoined promptly: "Well, I thought I saw something on yo' thoughts if you'll excuse my tautology. Thass a ve'y diffycult to p'event sometime'. But, Mistoo Itchlin, I trus' 'tis not you 'ave allowed somebody to swin'le you? confiding them too indiscweetly, in fact?" He took a pretty attitude, his eyes reposing in Richling's. Richling laughed outright. "No, nothing of that kind.
Narcisse had already apologized by two or three gestures to each of his hearers. "Misses Itchlin Mistoo Itchlin," he shook his head and smiled skeptically, "you think you kin admiah Doctah Seveeah mo' than me? 'Tis uzeless to attempt. 'With all 'is fault I love 'im still." Richling and his wife both spoke at once. "But John and I," exclaimed Mary, electrically, "love him, faults and all!"
Both John and Mary laughed and demurred. "You don't think?" asked the smiling visitor. "Me, I dunno, I fine one thing. If a man don't die fum one thing, yet, still, he'll die fum something. I 'ave study that out, Mistoo Itchlin. 'To be, aw to not be, thaz the queztion, in fact. I don't ca'e if you live one place aw if you live anotheh place, 'tis all the same, you've got to pay to live!"
Richling recalled the physician's saying concerning this very same little tale-bearer, that he carried his nonsense on top and his good sense underneath. "Dr. Sevier said that, did he?" asked Richling, after a time. "'Tis the vehbatim, seh. Convussing to yo' 'eve'end fwend. You can ask him; he will co'obo'ate me in fact. Well, Mistoo Itchlin, it supp'ise me you not tickle at that.
My hant, she's got a honcle w'at use' to be cluck in a bank, w'at could make the si'natu'e of the pwesiden', as well as of the cashieh, with that so absolute puffegtion, that they tu'n 'im out of the bank! Yesseh. In fact, I thing you ought to know 'ow to 'ite a ve'y fine 'an', Mistoo Itchlin."
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