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No Gawge Nimbus, nor ennything Nimbus, nor Nimbus ennything jes' Nimbus; so. Nigger got no use fer two names, nohow."
Weir always stole off by himself to read his daily letter, trying to escape a merry chorus of tantalizing remarks. "Oh! Sugar!" "Dreamy Eyes!" "Gawge, the pink letter has come!" Weir's reception of these sallies earned him the name of Puff. One morning, for some unaccountable reason, Weir did not get down-stairs when the mail arrived.
"Not lame Jintsey's boy! You don't mean it!" "That's the ve'y one," persisted Uncle Billy. "Gawge Washington Chadwick. He's a ministah of the gospel now, home from college with a Rev'und befo' his name, an' a long-tailed black coat on. He doesn't look much like the little pickaninny that b'long to Mars' Nat back in wah times." "And Jintsey's dead, poah thing!" exclaimed Aunt Susan.
The master laughed, "I believe you've got me there, Uncle Simon; well go along, but see that your flock is well tended." "Thanky, Mas' Gawge, thanky. I'll put a shepherd in my place dat'll put de food down so low dat de littles' lambs kin enjoy it, but'll mek it strong enough fu' de oldes' ewes." And with a profound bow the old man went down the steps and hobbled away.
"But I's been missin' my po' ol' wife so much hyeah lately." "You've been missing her, oh, yes, and so you want to get a woman young enough to be your granddaughter to fill her place." "Well, Mas' Gawge, you know, ef I is ol' an' feeble, ez you say, I need a strong young han' to he'p me down de hill, an' ef Manette don' min' spa'in' a few mont's er yeahs "
What she really wants is a big office for her dear bald-headed Gawge to sit around and look important in. Of course I admire Mrs. Mott, and I'm very fond of her, she's so brainy, even if she does try to butt in and run the Thanatopsis, but I must say we're sick of her nagging. The old building was good enough for us when we were kids! I hate these would-be women politicians, don't you?"
One by one they came and listened, and went away with a new expression on their faces, and a new ambition in their hearts. To all these people he was "Brothah Chadwick;" to the three old slaves bound to him by ties almost as strong as those of kinship, he could never be other than Jintsey's boy; but to two persons he was known as the "Rev'und Gawge."
Bud squatted at his feet in silence, sticking his little red tongue in and out of the hole where the lost tooth had been. As for John Jay, his hero-worship passed that night into warmest love. From that time on, he would have gone through fire and water to serve his "Rev'und Gawge," anywhere in fact, save one place.
John Jay had come past the toll-gate with a hope of seeing the "Rev'und Gawge," as he called him. It had been three weeks since the man had come home, and in that time John Jay's interest in him had grown into a sort of hero-worship. There had been a great deal of talk about him among the ignorant colored people.
"Well, go on, because it will soon be time for you to be getting down to the meeting-house to exhort the hands." "Dat's jes' what I want to speak 'bout, dat 'zortin'." "Well, you've been doing it for a good many years now." "Dat's de very idee, dat's in my haid now. Mas' Gawge, huccume you read me so nigh right?" "Oh, that's not reading anything, that's just truth.
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