"
This wrought me into a very fever of apprehension. I could only
guess who Parson Jim might be; the buccaneers gathered all manner
of strange recruits; it was enough that there was talk of a
marriage, and I was sick with dread lest after all I should be too
late. And when at last I heard the welcome rustle below me, the
first words I spoke through the tube were an anxious inquiry for
Lucy's welfare.
"Missy lots better now, sah," replied the negro, and with the
vanity of youth I inferred that she was better for the knowledge
that I was near.
"Is Mr. Cludde at the house?" I asked.
"No, sah; Massa Cludde gone yesterday."
That was good news, at any rate, for I supposed him to have
returned to Spanish Town, perhaps to make preparations for his
wedding, and it must be four or five days at earliest before he
could be back.
"And when is Mistress Lucy's birthday?" I asked.
"Missy's bufday Friday, Massa, but oughter be Fursday."
"What do you mean?"
"Missy keep bufday one day after proper time, sah, cos her muvver
die on proper bufday, and Massa and Missy too sorry to be jolly dat
day, sah."
"Does Mr. Vetch know that?" I asked, with no little anxiety, for
'twas Tuesday night, and if Vetch knew that Lucy came of age on
Thursday the time was perilously short.
"No, sah; Massa Vetch t'ink de proper bufday be Friday, and he hab
told all de black people dey shall get drunk Saturday, 'cos dere
will be wedding in de house.
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