Before breakfast-time arrives, however, he arouses with a loud
guffaw, looks round the room vacantly, as if he were doubting the
presence of things about him. Rising to his knees, he rubs his eyes
languidly, yawns, and stretches his arms, scratches his head, and
suddenly gets a glimpse of old master, who is already dressed, and
sits by the window, his attention intently set upon some object
without. The old slave recognises the same chamber from which he
guided Franconia on the night before, and, after saluting mas'r,
sets about arranging the domestic affairs of the apartment, and
preparing the breakfast table, the breakfast being cooked at Aunt
Beckie's cabin, in the yard. Aunt Beckie had the distinguished
satisfaction of knowing Marston in his better days, and now esteems
it an honour to serve him, even in his poverty. Always happy to
inform her friends that she was brought up a first-rate pastry-cook,
she now adds, with great satisfaction, that she pays her owner, the
very Reverend Mr. Thomas Tippletony, the ever-pious rector of St.
Michael's, no end of money for her time, and makes a good profit at
her business beside. Notwithstanding she has a large family of
bright children to maintain in a respectable way, she hopes for a
continuance of their patronage, and will give the best terms her
limited means admit. She knows how very necessary it is for a
southern gentleman who would be anybody to keep up appearances, and,
with little means, to make a great display: hence she is very easy
in matters of payment.
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