The whole entertainment was cooked for, and waited on by, a most
delightful coloured lady called Cassandra, who chewed gum and joined in
the conversation.
Fancy the consternation and horror of Mrs. Spleist or Mrs. Craik V.
Purdy, if either had been the hostess of such a party! They would have
apologised the whole time. It was all enchanting.
"Now, Mr. Johnson," Cassandra said (our host's name is Burke Johnson),
"why yo go for to put all de peas in dat great heap on yo plate? Didn't
I tell yo to be careful? Dey won't go 'round." And she looked like a
reproving mother to a greedy boy, showing her splendid teeth in a grin.
We were so amused. But when the subjects interested her she would pause
with a dish in the air and give her opinion in the friendliest way, not
the least impertinently, but as some fond, privileged Nanny might at a
children's party.
"Fact is, you spoil Mr. Johnson, Cassandra," Nelson said; "you feed him
too well and keep him too snug." Then she tossed her head, "Mr. Johnson
is my care, Mr. Nelson," she said; "you can talk 'bout that to some
other coloured lady," and her laugh rang out like a silver bell.
I cannot give you any idea, Mamma, of how perfectly delightful all these
people are.
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