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Desmit and his attorney with somewhat constrained politeness, and when they were seated proceeded to read the complaint, which simply recited that Colonel Desmit, having employed Lugena, the wife of complainant, at a given rate per month, had failed to make payment, and had finally, without cause, ordered her off his premises. "Is that all?" asked the lawyer. "That is all," answered the officer.
"An' I tole him 'Ole Marse Potem Desmit, sah' jes so like. "Den he sez 'Who's a oberseein' dar now? "An' I sez, 'Marse Si War', sah? "Den he sez, 'An' how do all de ban's on Knapp-o Reeds git 'long wid ole Marse Potem an' Marse Si War'? "An' I sez, 'Oh, we gits 'long tol'able well wid Marse War', sah. "An' he sez, 'How yer likes old Marse Potem?
"Desmit Colonel Potem Desmit." "I might have known that," said the clerk laughingly, "from the durned outlandish name. Well, Desmit is your surname, then, ain't it?" "No'taint, Mister. What right I got ter his name? He nebber gib it ter me no more'n he did ter you er Lugena h'yer." "Pshaw, I can't stop to argue with you. Here's your certificate." "Will you please read it, sah?
Knapp-of-reeds was the name of a plantation which was one of the numerous possessions of P. Desmit, Colonel and Esquire, of the county of Horsford, in the northernmost of those States which good Queen Caroline was fortunate enough to have designated as memorials of her existence.
The officer even lifted the canteen to his lips, and no doubt finding Pat's assertion as to its quality to be true allowed a reasonable quantity of its aromatic contents to glide down his throat, and then handed it to one of his companions. "General! General!" shrieked Desmit in desperation, as he rushed forward. "What do you want, sir?" said the officer sternly.
"They say your name is Desmit Nimbus Desmit," said the officer; "is that so?" "No, tain't." "Wasn't that your old master's name?" asked the sheriff roughly. "Co'se it war," was the reply. "Well, then, ain't it yours too?" "No, it ain't." "Well, you just ask the gentleman if that ain't so," said the sheriff, motioning to the chairman of the board.
It was all along of the wah that left everybody pore in this country, just as it made all the Yankees rich with bonds and sech-like." "Sho'! what's de use ob bein' a fool? 'Twan't de wah dat made Marse Desmit pore. 'Twuz dat ar damn fool business ob slavery afo' de wah dat wound him up.
"Here's a summons in a civil action the old man, Granville Sykes, against Nimbus Desmit and Eliab Hill. Where is 'Liab? I must see him, too. Here's your copy," he continued, handing Nimbus the paper and marking the date of service on the original in pencil with the careless promptitude of the well-trained official. Nimbus looked at the paper which was handed him in undisguised astonishment.
Ef he'll fix up dis matter wid Lugena, I hain't no mo' complaint, an' I'se mighty sorry 'bout dat, kase Marse Desmit hab allus been mighty kin' ter me all 'cept dis time an' once afo'."
Ware?" he said as that worthy came striding in from the new-ground nervously chewing a mouthful of home-made twist, which he had replenished several times since leaving the field, without taking the precaution to provide stowage for the quantity he was taking aboard. "How d'ye, Colonel?" said Ware uneasily. "Reckon you hardly expected me to day?" continued Desmit, watching him closely.
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