Wonnell wore a bell-crown, and his hand was full of fall blossoms. As
Wonnell observed the dead dog, pretty little Roxy came out of the
kitchen, and stood blushing, yet frightened, to see him.
"What yo' doin' with them rosy-posies?" Jimmy demanded. "Who're they
fur? What air you sneakin' aroun' Teackle Hall fur so bright of a
mornin', lazy as I know you is, Jack Wonnell?"
"They are flowers he brings every morning for me," Roxy spoke up, coming
forward with a pretty simper.
"For you?" exclaimed Vesta. "You are not receiving the attentions of
white men, Roxy?"
"He offered, himself, to get flowers for me, so I might give you as
pretty ones as Virgie, missy. I let him bring them. He's a poor, kind
man."
"I jess got 'em, Jimmy," interjected Jack Wonnell, with his peculiar
wink and leer, "caze Roxy's the belle of Prencess Anne, and I'm the
bell-crown. She's my little queen, and I ain't ashamed of her."
"Courtin' niggers, air you!" Jimmy exclaimed, collaring Jack again. "Now
whar did you go all day Sunday with Levin Dennis and the nigger buyer?
What hokey-pokey wair you up to?"
"Mr. Wonnell," Roxy had the presence of mind to say, "take care you tell
the truth, for my sake! Aunt Hominy is gone, with all the kitchen
children, and Mr. Phoebus suspects you!"
"Great lightnin' bugs!" Jimmy Phoebus cried. "The niggers stole, an'
the dog dead, too?"
"I 'spect Jedge Custis sold 'em, Jimmy," Jack Wonnell pleaded, twisting
out of the bay captain's hands.
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