It was only the negro's
forgetfulness in the moment of excitement. Giving a wistful look at
Franconia, he commences picking up the pieces, and drawing his
week's earnings from a side pocket of his jacket.
"Eat your supper, Daddy; never mind your money now" says Franconia,
laughing heartily: at which Bob regains confidence and resumes his
supper, keeping a watchful eye upon his old master the while. Every
now and then he will pause, cant his ear, and shake his head, as if
drinking in the tenour of the conversation between Franconia and her
uncle. Having concluded, he pulls out his money and spreads it upon
the chest. "Old Bob work hard fo' dat!" he says, with emphasis,
spreading a five-dollar bill and two dollars and fifty cents in
silver into divisions. "Dah!" he ejaculates, "dat old mas'r share,
and dis is dis child's." The old man looks proudly upon the coin,
and feels he is not so worthless, after all. "Now! who say old Bob
aint werf nofin?" he concludes, getting up, putting his share into
his pocket, and then, as if unobserved, slipping the balance into
Marston's. This done, he goes to the window, affects to be looking
out, and then resuming his seat upon the chest, commences humming a
familiar plantation tune, as if his pious feelings had been
superseded by the recollection of past scenes.
"What, Daddy,--singing songs?" interrupts Franconia, looking at him
enquiringly. He stops as suddenly as he commenced, exchanges an
expressive look, and fain would question her sincerity.
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