"_Mais_, what could make it else? Id could not be the _quitte_, because
my papa keep the bucket, an' forget to sen' the _quitte_ to Father
Pierre."
Parson Jones was disappointed.
"Well, now, Jools, you know, I don't think that was right. I reckon you
must be a plum Catholic."
M. St.-Ange shrugged. He would not deny his faith.
"I am a _Catholique, mais_"--brightening as he hoped to recommend
himself anew--"not a good one."
"Well, you know," said Jones--"where's Colossus? Oh! all right. Colossus
strayed off a minute in Mobile, and I plum lost him for two days. Here's
the place; come in. Colossus and this boy can go to the kitchen.--Now,
Colossus, what _air_ you a-beckonin' at me faw?"
He let his servant draw him aside and address him in a whisper.
"Oh, go 'way!" said the parson with a jerk. "Who's goin' to throw me?
What? Speak louder. Why, Colossus, you shayn't talk so, saw. 'Pon my
soul, you're the mightiest fool I ever taken up with. Jest you go down
that alley-way with this yalla boy, and don't show yo' face untell yo'
called!"
The negro begged; the master wrathily insisted.
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