“That comfortable quarters are found for you,” said Blandford.
With creditable ingenuity, old Jake set up a cackling, high-pitched, protracted laugh. He beat his knee, picked up his hat and bent the brim in an apparent paroxysm of humorous appreciation. The seizure afforded him a mask behind which he could roll his eyes impartially between, above, and beyond his two tormentors.
“I sees what!” he chuckled, after a while. “You gen’lemen is tryin’ to have fun with the po’ old nigger. But you can’t fool old Jake. I knowed you, Marse Blandford, the minute I sot eyes on you. You was a po’ skimpy little boy no mo’ than about fo’teen when you lef’ home to come No’th; but I knowed you the minute I sot eyes on you. You is the mawtal image of old marster. The other gen’leman resembles you mightily, suh; but you can’t fool old Jake on a member of the old Vi’ginia family. No suh.”
At exactly the same time both Carterets smiled and extended a hand for the watch.
Uncle Jake’s wrinkled, black face lost the expression of amusement into which he had vainly twisted it. He knew that he was being
