Next, you must obey this man and go with him. You must do just what he says in all respects. His name is Mr. Hobart Martine." "Yes, he tole me las' night, Hob't Ma'tine. He took on mighty cur'ous after seein' me." "Do you understand that you are to mind, to obey him in all respects just as you have obeyed me?" "I reckon. Will he tek me to anuther hospital?"
"My name is Hobart Martine," the speaker forced himself to say, expecting fearfully a sign of recognition, for the impression that it was Nichol grew upon him every moment, in spite of apparent proof to the contrary. "Hump! Hob't Ma'tine. Never yeared on yer. Ef yer want ter chin mo' in the mawnin', I'll be yere." "Wait a moment, Yan " "Yankee Blank, I tole yer."
Kemble fairly trembled as he came forward, involuntarily expecting that the man so well known to him must give some sign of recognition. Nichol paid no heed to him. He had been too long accustomed to see strangers coming and going to give them either thought or attention. "I say, Hob't Ma'tine," he began, "don' yer cuss me fer eatin' all the supper.
"Doctor," he began over his mother's head, "what in thunder does all this here mean? Me 'n' Jackson was chinnin' comf't'bly, when sud'n you uns let loose on me two crazy old parties I never seed ner yeared on. Never had folks go on so 'bout me befo'. Beats even that Hob't Ma'tine," and he showed signs of rising irritation. "Albert, Albert!" almost shrieked Mrs.