what it is I am so
anxious to get?" Still he waited rather impatiently for Rondeau to make
his appearance. In a moment he entered the room, and commenced pulling the
letters from his pocket, saying, "I've got a heap this time, marster."

He then laid them one by one on the marble dressing table, counting them
as he did so; "Thar's one, thar's two, thar's three, thar's four."

"Stop counting them, can't you, and give me all you have directly," said
Dr. Lacey, as his eye ran hurriedly over the superscription of each, and
found not the one he sought.

"That's jist what I've done, marster," said Rondeau, bowing. "The one you
want wasn't thar."

Dr. Lacey glanced hastily at his servant, and felt assured that the
quick-witted negro was in possession of his secret. "You may go," said he,
"and mind, never let me hear of your commenting about my letters."

"No, marster, never; 'strue's I live," said Rondeau, who left the room and
went in quest of Leffie. But he did not dare to repeat the scene of the
morning, for Aunt Dilsey was present, bending over a large tub of boiling
suds, and he felt sure that any misdemeanor on his part would call forth a
more affectionate shower bath than he cared about receiving. So he
concluded to bring about his purpose by complimenting Aunt Dilsey on her
fine figure (she weighed just two hundred!).

"Aunt Dilsey," said he, "'pears to me you have an uncommon good form, for
one as plump and healthy-like as you are."

Aunt Dilsey was quite sensitive whenever her size was alluded to, and she
replied rather sharply: "You git along, you bar's ile skullcap. 'Twon't be
healthy for you to poke fun at me."

"'Pon my word," said the mischievous Rondeau, "I ain't poking fun at you.
I do really think so. I thought of it last Sunday, when you had on that
new gown, that becomes you so well."

"Which one?" said Aunt Dilsey, a little mollified, "the blue and yaller
one?"

"The same," answered Rondeau. "It fits you good. Your arm looks real small
in it."

Leffie was nearly convulsed with laughter, for she had tried the
experiment, and found that the distance round her mother's arm was just
the distance round her own slender waist.

"Do tell!" said Aunt Dilsey, stopping from her work and wiping the drops
of perspiration from her shining forehead. "Do tell! It feels drefful
sleek on me, but my old man Claib says it's too tight."

"Not an atom too tight," answered Rondeau, at the same time getting nearer