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"You know about Rodney G. Bullard, the lawyer, don't you? about him bein' found shot day before yistiddy evenin' in the mouth of that alley?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "Though I was not personally acquainted with the man himself, I am familiar with the circumstances you mention." "Well," she said, with a sort of jerk behind each word, "it was me that done it!"
"Good-morning," he said, nodding unconsciously, with the careless politeness of a gentleman to his inferiors. "I'm Mr. Tryon. I have come to inquire about the sick teacher." "Why, suh," the woman replied respectfully, "she got los' in de woods night befo' las', an' she wuz out'n her min' most er de time yistiddy.
She wuz on de clo'sline yistiddy, but she done gone: she ain' dah no mo' now." "I reckon the world IS coming to an end. I NEVER see the beat of it in all my born days. A shirt, and a sheet, and a spoon, and six can " "Missus," comes a young yaller wench, "dey's a brass cannelstick miss'n." "Cler out from here, you hussy, er I'll take a skillet to ye!" Well, she was just a-biling.
"Dee was somebody prowlin' 'roun' de premises yistiddy evenin'." Then he searched the ground, all around the cabin, for footprints in the snow. He found some tracks presently, and followed them over the meadow in the starlight, across the road, and down the railroad track several rods. There they suddenly disappeared. The tramp had evidently walked on the rail some distance.
"Why, Miss Ann, 'twas only yistiddy that young Marse Jeff Bucknor up an' made me a solemn promise that you wouldn't never want fer nothin' so long as he mought live an' be able ter do fer you." "That's very sweet of him, Billy, but this isn't his home alone. His mother is the mistress here. I think we might go visit Mr. Big Josh Bucknor for a while.
En he 'uz a fighter, too, mon, Mars Jeems wuz. Many's en many's de time," continued the old man, reflectively, "dat I hatter take'n bresh dat boy on a counter his 'buzin' en beatin' dem yuther boys. He went off dar fer ter fight, en he fit. Ole Miss useter call me up Sunday en read w'at de papers say 'bout Mars Jeems, en it ho'p 'er up might'ly. I kin see 'er des like it 'uz yistiddy.
I only got a sister." "What's her name?" "Lou," he answered. "That's her real name. But she got a fancy name yistiddy. She was took on at the opera yistiddy, to sing with a hunderd uvver girls on the styge. She's Lulu Luckingham now." "Oh Luckingham!" said Stafford, with a smile, for this was a name of his own family, and of much account in circles he frequented. "And who gave her that name?
She wuz on de clo'sline yistiddy, but she done gone: she ain' dah no mo' now." "I reckon the world IS coming to an end. I NEVER see the beat of it in all my born days. A shirt, and a sheet, and a spoon, and six can " "Missus," comes a young yaller wench, "dey's a brass cannelstick miss'n." "Cler out from here, you hussy, er I'll take a skillet to ye!" Well, she was just a-biling.
"But the two women you told him were waitin' behind those side doors for him how about them?" "Law, jedge, dey wuzn't dere neither one of 'em wuzn't. Jes' lak I told you yistiddy, I couldn't find only jest one woman dat nigger'd married an' run off frum, an' her I fetched 'long wid me.
"Why, certainly not," I replied. "Well that was all I wuz askin' ye. Ye see, when he come here to take the rooms you wasn't here then he told my wife that he lived at number thirty-four in his street. An' yistiddy she told her that they lived at number thirty-five. He said he lived in an apartment-house. Now there can't be no apartment-house on two sides of the same street, kin they?"
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