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Updated: June 4, 2025
The hot Scotch having somewhat warmed up the embers of the Heidsieck, it was touching to observe the master's eagerness to pull himself together under the servant's eye; and when he remarked, "I think, Teena, I'll take a brandy and soda," he spoke like a man doubtful of his elocution, and not half certain of obedience. "No such a thing, Mr. Michael," was the prompt return. "Clar't and water."
'Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best, said the master. 'Very fatiguing day at the office, though. 'What? said the retainer, 'ye never were near the office! 'O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street, returned Michael.
'That's by his way of it; but I've an idee of my own. He tried to bribe me, Mr Michael. Bribe me! she repeated, with inimitable scorn. 'That's no' kind of a young gentleman. 'Did he so? said Michael. 'I bet he didn't offer much. 'No more he did, replied Teena; nor could any subsequent questioning elicit from her the sum with which the thrifty leather merchant had attempted to corrupt her.
"Aliquor" was Indian, "Waugee" was white man, "Chick" was the general word for money. "Hutla" is night, "Wha" is the sun; "Hutla-wha" is the moon the night-sun. If an Indian wishes to ask where you are going, he will say, "Ta hunt tow ingya?" "Teena scoia" is very good. "Skeena" is too small. "Semastolon" is a young woman; if she is considered beautiful, "Clane nuquum" describes her.
'Well, then, said the lawyer fretfully, 'I won't eat any more dinner. 'Ye can please yourself about that, Mr Michael, said Teena, and began composedly to take away. 'I do wish Teena wasn't a faithful servant! sighed the lawyer, as he issued into Kings's Road.
'Couldn't ye get the law of him some way? suggested Teena truculently. 'No, I don't think I could, and I'm quite sure I don't want to, replied Michael. 'But I say, Teena, I really don't believe this claret's wholesome; it's not a sound, reliable wine. Give us a brandy and soda, there's a good soul. Teena's face became like adamant.
On Wednesday and Saturday the cook made ginger cakes for the little children. The house girl called us. She was Aunt Teena's girl. Aunt Teena was a housemaid. See little niggers coming from every direction to get our cakes. "Jim Jackson's wife was named Mariah. They lived in a big fine white house. When it was freedom a soldier come, brought a paper and Massa Jim was settin' on the porch.
"But ye'll not be the first that's asked me that the day." "No?" said the lawyer. "Who else?" "Ay, that's a joke, too," said Teena grimly. "A friend of yours: Mr. Morris." "Morris! What was the little beggar wanting here?" inquired Michael. "Wantin'? To see him," replied the housekeeper, completing her meaning by a movement of the thumb toward the upper story.
"Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best," said the master. "Very fatiguing day at the office, though." "What?" said the retainer, "ye never were near the office!" "O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street," returned Michael.
There was another silence, during which Morris appeared to himself to be shot in a trapeze as high as St. Paul's, and as low as Baker Street Station. "Let us recapitulate," said Michael, "unless it's really a dream, in which case I wish Teena would call me for breakfast. My friend Pitman, here, received a barrel which, it now appears, was meant for you. The barrel contained the body of a man.
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