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Updated: May 3, 2025
Clo had been rather short with her lover of late, having interrupted several private flirtations of Victoria, with the faithless one. "Do tell me what yer mean, Clorindy," pleaded Dolf, his eyes fairly started out of his head with curiosity. "Oh, mebby you'd better go to Vic," she retorted, "she's a heap cuter dan what I be. I ain't coffee-colored, I'se only a nigger."
"He's a bery pleasant man, de elder," said she; "bery pleasant." "Dey say he wants a wife," observed Dolf. "Do dey! Mebby he do; anyway he hain't told me dat." "But he will, Clorindy, he will!" "Tain't no ways likely; don' 'spec I shall knows much bout it!" "Oh, yes, yer will," insisted Dolf.
Mellen was about to order them away from that part of the house the veriest trifle irritated him now when Clorinda's next words made him pause. "I wish he'd hev it dug up by the roots," she said; "I do 'lieve dat ar tree is haunted." "Haunted!" screamed Dolf, who possessed a large share of the superstition of his race. "Now what does yer mean, Miss Clorindy?"
"Oh, laws," cried Clo, "as ef dat ar would set you a sighin'; I knows a heap better'n dat, Mister Dolf." "Yer don't do me justice, Clorindy," said Dolf, seriously, putting on an injured look; "yer neber has done me justice." "Why, what have I done now?" demanded Clo, beginning to play with her apron string. "Clo! I say, ole Clo!"
"It 'pends on yer, Miss Clorindy, yer know; de 'couragement yer've ben a givin' him is 'nuff to drive yer admirers out o' der senses." "Oh, dear me, I neber heerd sich audacious nonsense!" said Clo. "It's true," answered Dolf, "an' yer knows it. But ye're received in dat man, Miss Clorindy, yer is! He's got both eyes fixed on de glitterin' dross.
Miss Clorindy," he said, "de sect is all resemblous in one particular." "What do yer mean?" inquired Clo, and her voice softened in response to the tenderness in his. "In yer cruelty," said Dolf, "yer cruelty, Miss Clorindy." "Laws, nobody ebber sed I was cruel," returned the matter-of-fact Clo.
"Git my bunnit!" she repeated. "Ise gwine to York, I is." "To York, this time o' night?" cried Vic. "Yes, I is let me go." Dolf laid a hand on her arm. "Only 'splain, Clorindy, 'splain!" "Ise gwine to git at dem rascals. I want my money I'll have it! Marster shall git it. Oh de villin scampsesses! I want my money."
"So dar is," assented Dolf, in a perplexed manner, "dar is, sure." "Don't yer say nothin', 'cause I'd get my walkin' papers ef yer did. But ef you're so mighty wise, jis' tell me what yer makes ob all dis mysteriousness?" "Clorindy," said Dolf, in a solemn voice, "ghostesses is a subject 'taint proper to talk on, and the queernesses ob our marsters and misseses is not tropics for us."
"Yer may speak freely to me." "I 'spose yer'd say de same to Vic." "Neber, Miss Clorindy! What, dat silly, giggling girl don't tink it!" His persuasions met with their reward at last; he pleaded again: "Jis' tell me what yer means 'bout de tree bein' haunted?" She yielded to his flattery and her feminine desire to tell all that she had seen or imagined about the old cedar.
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