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"Is he drowned?" asked Mr. Tarbox, while still some distance off. "Been struck by lightnin' sim like," replied the negro who had found the body. "Watch out, Mistoo Tah-bawx!" he added, as the skiff drew near; "dat boat dess lousy wid snake'!" Tarbox stood up in the skiff and looked sadly upon the dead face. "It's our man," he said to St. Pierre. "Dass what I say!" exclaimed the negro.
The telephone-bell rang. The hall-boy said: "A gen'leman to see you Mistoo Ferriday." "Send him along." "He's on the way now." "Oh, all right." As Kedzie hung up the receiver it occurred to her that this little interchange was about the un-swellest thing she had ever done. She had been heedless of the convenances.
Richling laid his hand on Narcisse's shoulder and they went at a gait quickened by the happy husband's elation. Narcisse was very proud of the touch, and, as they began to traverse the vegetable market, took the most populous arcade. "Mistoo Itchlin," he began again, "I muz congwatulate you! You know I always admiah yo' lady to excess.
I dunno; but thass my opinion. If you ah p'oceeding at yo' residence, Mistoo Itchlin, I'll juz continue my p'omenade in yo' society if not intooding" Richling smiled candidly. "Your company's worth all it costs, Narcisse. Excuse me; I always forget your last name and your first is so appropriate." It was worth all it cost, though Richling could ill afford the purchase.
"Well, Mistoo Itchlin, since some time I've been stipulating me to do myseff that honoh, seh, to come at yo' 'ouse; well, ad the end I am yeh. I think you fine yoseff not ve'y well those days. Is that nod the case, Mistoo Itchlin?" "Oh, I'm well enough!" Richling ended with a laugh, somewhat explosively. Mary looked at him with forced gravity as he suppressed it.
"Doctah Seveeah," he said, "in fact, I fine that a ve'y gen'lemany young man, that Mistoo Itchlin, weely, Doctah." The Doctor murmured to himself from the letter he was writing. "Well, au 'evoi', Doctah; I'm goin'."
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.
Now, if you migs the two style' well 'ow's that, Mistoo Itchlin, if you migs them? Seem' to me I dunno." "Why, don't you see?" asked Richling. "If you mix them, you avoid both necessities. You sail triumphantly between Scylla and Charybdis without so much as skinning your eye."
"Yes, seh, so soon I see him I say, mos' sholy dass de same man what Mistoo Tah-bawx lookin' faw to show him 'roun' 'bout de swamp! Yes, seh, not-instandin' I never see him befo'! No, seh. Lawd! look yondeh! look dat big bahsta'd hawn-snake! He kyant git away: he's hu't! Lawd! dass what kill dat man! Dat man trawmp on him in de dark, and he strack him wid his hawny tail!
"My opinion?" said Richling, with a smile. "My opinion is that the Parish Prison would not be a good place to raise a family." Narcisse laughed. "I thing yo' opinion is co'ect," he said, flatteringly; then growing instantly serious, he added, "Yesseh, I think you' about a-'ight, Mistoo Itchlin; faw even if 'twas not too 'umid, 'twould be too confining, in fact, speshly faw child'en.
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