"Do you mean to say that you'll take no more orders from me?" the
old lady asked, in tones of suppressed anger.
"Kyant do mo' 'n one ting ter oncet. Ob co'se I git yo' breakfas'
when I kin. Reck'n dough we soon hab ter disergree on my wages. I'se
a free ooman."
"Oh, you are free and I am not. That's the new order of things your
Yankee friends would bring about."
"La now, misus," said matter-of-fact Aun' Suke, again shaking with
mirth at the idea, "you got mo' edication 'n me. Wat de use bein'
blin' des on puppose? Spose you en ole mars'r tell me dat ain' a
egg" (holding one up): "kyant I see? Hit's broad sun-up. Why not des
look at tings ez dey iz? Sabe a heap ob trouble. Yere, you lil
niggahs, hep right smart or you neber get yo' breakfas'."
Mrs. Baron went back to the house looking as if the end of the world
had come instead of the millennium.
In the hall she met her husband and Mrs. Whately, to whom she
narrated what had occurred. Mr. Baron had settled down into a sort
of sullen endurance, and made no answer, but Mrs.
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