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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Yas-suh; and wif the lobstuh, suh, Ah venture to sug-gest a nice cold lil ha'f-pint of Cliquot, Yallah Label? How that strike yo' fancy, suh? Er mebbe yo'd perfuh " "Enough!" said P. Sybarite firmly. "A mere bite and a glass are enough to sustain life." "Ain't that the troof?" Chuckling, the negro waddled away, returned, and offered the guest a glass brimming with amber-tinted liquid.
"You c'n put your blankets down here on the kitchen floor when you're ready to go to bed. Mrs. Striker will kick you in the mornin' if you ain't awake when she comes out to start breakfast." "Yassuh, yassuh," grinned the hungry darkey. "Missus won't need fo' to kick more'n once, suh, 'cause Ise gwine to be hungry all over ag'in 'long about breakfus time, yas-SUH!"
"Yas-suh comin'!" he gabbled cheerfully. "It's sho' a pleasure to see yo' again." "At least," suggested P. Sybarite, dropping into a chair, "it will be, next time." "Tha's right, suh that's the troof!" The negro placed a small table adjacent to his elbow. "Tha's what Ah allus says to strange gemmun, fust time they comes hyeh, suh; makes 'em feel more at home like.
Tump shook his head, bewildered, and after a moment added, "Yas-suh, I never wuz mo' surprised in all my life dan when I got dis medal fuh stobbin' fo' white men." Peter Siner looked through the Jim Crow window at the vast rotation of the Kentucky landscape on which his forebears had toiled; presently he added soberly: "You were fighting for your country, Tump.
"Pete," said he, extending his right foot, "I wish you'd do something for me." "Yas-suh!" "Take off my shoe." Staring with naïf incredulity until assured of the gentleman's complete seriousness, the negro plumped down upon his knees, unlaced, and removed the shoe. "It's a shocking shoe," observed P. Sybarite dreamily.
"Well, suh," he admitted, "Ah finds that gemmun gen'ly does change they min's erbout me, aftuh they done cut er melon, like." With the air of an emperor, P. Sybarite gave the negro a twenty-dollar bill. "And now," he cut short a storm of thanks, "if you'll be good enough to give me just one more glass of champagne, I think I'll totter home." "Yas-suh!" In a twinkling a glass was in his hand.
He raised his voice and called up to the acting skipper: "Oh, Babe, is this your island?" The mulatto's miniature head appeared from round the corner of the deck-house. "Yas-suh! This yeah's it." Carlyle joined Ardita. "Looks sort of sporting, doesn't it?" "Yes," she agreed; "but it doesn't look big enough to be much of a hiding-place."
The smallest Negro took a quick step forward and saluted. "Take command, go down below, catch the crew and tie 'em up all except the engineer. Bring him up to me. Oh, and pile those bags by the rail there." "Yas-suh!" Babe saluted again and wheeling about motioned for the five others to gather about him. Then after a short whispered consultation they all filed noiselessly down the companionway.
"My mother wrote me; about your getting it, Tump. I was glad to hear it." The brown man nodded, and stared down at the bit of gold on his barrel- like chest. "Yas-suh, dat 'uz guv to me fuh bravery. You know whut a skeery lil nigger I wuz roun' Hooker's Ben'; well, de sahgeant tuk me an' he drill ever' bit o' dat right out 'n me.
After a brief hesitation Peter repeated determinedly: "It'll be all right. And, by the way, of course, this will be a very quiet wedding." "Yas-suh." The old man bobbed importantly. "I wouldn't mention it to any one." "No, suh; no, suh. I don' blame you a-tall, Mr.
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