sarcophagus, flirted his feather duster and began his ritual: “Step right in, boss. Carriage is clean—jus’ got back from a funeral. Fifty cents to any—”
And then he knew me and grinned broadly. “’Scuse me, boss; you is de genl’man what rid out with me dis mawnin’. Thank you kindly, suh.”
“I am going out to 861 again to-morrow afternoon at three,” said I, “and if you will be here, I’ll let you drive me. So you know Miss Adair?” I concluded, thinking of my dollar bill.
“I belonged to her father, Judge Adair, suh,” he replied.
“I judge that she is pretty poor,” I said. “She hasn’t much money to speak of, has she?”
For an instant I looked again at the fierce countenance of King Cettiwayo, and then he changed back to an extortionate old Negro hack driver.
“She ain’t gwine to starve, suh,” he said slowly. “She has reso’ces, suh; she has reso’ces.”
“I shall pay you fifty cents for the trip,” said I.
“Dat is puffeckly correct, suh,” he answered humbly. “I jus’ had to have dat two dollars dis mawnin’, boss.”
I went to the hotel and lied by electricity. I wired the magazine: “A. Adair holds out for eight cents a word.”
The answer that came back was: “Give it to her quick, you duffer.”
Just before dinner “Major” Wentworth Caswell bore
