his room with a pitcher of water.

"Well, old eavesdropper," he said, as Clemence came, "what is the
scandal to-day?"

Clemence laughed.

"You know, Mawse Chawlie, I dunno noth'n' 'tall 'bout nobody. I'se a
nigga w'at mine my own business."

"Sit down there on that stool, and tell me what is going on outside."

"I d' no noth'n' 'bout no goin's on; got no time fo' sit down, me; got
sell my cakes. I don't goin' git mix' in wid no white folks's doin's."

"Hush, you old hypocrite; I will buy all your cakes. Put them out there
on the table."

The invalid, sitting up in bed, drew a purse from behind his pillow and
tossed her a large price. She tittered, courtesied and received
the money.

"Well, well, Mawse Chawlie, 'f you ain' de funni'st gen'leman I knows,
to be sho!"

"Have you seen Joseph Frowenfeld to-day?" he asked.

"He, he, he! W'at I got do wid Mawse Frowenfel'? I goes on de off side
o' sich folks--folks w'at cann' 'have deyself no bette'n dat--he, he,
he! At de same time I did happen, jis chancin' by accident, to see 'im."

"How is he?"

Dr. Keene made plain by his manner that any sensational account would
receive his instantaneous contempt, and she answered within bounds.

"Well, now, tellin' the simple trufe, he ain' much hurt."

The doctor turned slowly and cautiously in bed.

"Have you seen Honore Grandissime?"

"W'y--das funny you ass me dat. I jis now see 'im dis werry minnit."

"Where?"

"Jis gwine into de house wah dat laydy live w'at 'e runned over dat ah
time."

"Now, you old hag," cried the sick man, his weak, husky voice trembling
with passion, "you know you're telling me a lie."

"No, Mawse Chawlie," she protested with a coward's frown, "I swah I
tellin' you de God's trufe!"

"Hand me my clothes off that chair."

"Oh! but, Mawse Chawlie--"

The little doctor cursed her. She did as she was bid, and made as if to
leave the room.

"Don't you go away."

"But Mawse Chawlie, you' undress'--he, he!"

She was really abashed and half frightened.

"I know that; and you have got to help me put my clothes on."

"You gwan kill yo'se'f, Mawse Chawlie," she said, handling a garment.

"Hold your black tongue."

She dressed him hastily, and he went down the stairs of his
lodging-house and out into the street. Clemence went in search of
her master.

CHAPTER XLIII

THE EAGLE VISITS THE DOVES IN THEIR NEST

Alphonsina--only living property of Aurora and Clotilde--was cal