"Yass, seh! Yass, seh!" said the porter, and, dropping the grip where he stood, he vanished.
Old Mose dusted the stool with his sleeve, and proffered it.
"Set down, seh!" with another bow. "Josh won' be long."
"I'll lie here," he answered, stretching himself out on the grass. "You were Colonel Duval's body-servant, you say."
"Yass, seh! from de time I wuz so 'igh. I don' 'member when I warn' he body-survent. I follows 'im all th'oo de war, seh, an' I wus wid 'im when he died." Tears were in the darky's eyes. "Hit's purty nigh time ole Mose gwine too."
"And when he died, you stayed and looked after the old place. That was the right thing to do," said Croyden. "Didn't Colonel Duval have any children?"
"No, seh. De Cun'l nuvver married, cuz Miss Penelope----"
He caught himself. "I toles yo 'bout hit some time, seh, mebbe!" he ended cautiously--talking about family matters with strangers was not to be considered.
"I should like to hear some time," said Croyden, not seeming to notice the darky's reticence. "When did the Colonel die?"
"Eight years ago cum corn plantin' time, seh. He jes' wen' right off quick like, when de mis'ry hit 'im in de chist--numonya, de doctors call'd it. De Cun'l guv de place to a No'thern gent'man, whar was he 'ticular frien', and I done stay on an' look arfter hit. He nuvver been heah. Hi! listen to dis nigger! yo's de gent'mans, mebbe."
"An' yo owns Cla'endon, now, seh? What yo goin' to do wid it?"
"I'm going to live here. Don't you want to look after me?"
"Goin' to live heah!--yo means it, seh?" the darky asked, in great amazement.
Croyden nodded. "Provided you will stay with me--and if you can find me a cook. Who cooks your meals?"
"Lawd, seh! find yo a cook. Didn' Jos'phine cook fur de Cun'l all he life--Jos'phine, she my wife, seh--she jest gone nex' do', 'bout some'n." He got up--"I calls her, seh."
"Never mind," he said; "she will be back, presently, and there is ample time. Any one live in these other cabins?"
"No, seh! we's all wha' left. De udder niggers done gone 'way, sence de Cun'l died, coz deah war nothin' fur dem to do no mo', an' no buddy to pays dem.--Dyar is Jos'phine, now, sir, she be hear torectly. An' heah comes Marster Dick, hisself."