You say your master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails
him?"
"Why, massa, 'taint worf while for to git mad about de matter--
Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him--but den what
make him go about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he
soldiers up, and as white as a goose? And den he keep a syphon all
de time--"
"Keeps a what, Jupiter?"
"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate--de queerest figgurs I
ebber did see. Ise gittin' to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to
keep mighty tight eye 'pon him 'noovers. Todder day he gib me slip
'fore de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a
big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when he did
come--but Ise sich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all--he
looked so berry poorly."
"Eh?--what?--ah yes!--upon the whole I think you had better not be
too severe with the poor fellow--don't flog him, Jupiter--he can't
very well stand it--but can you form no idea of what has occasioned
this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has anything
unpleasant happened since I saw you?"
"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant SINCE den--'twas 'FORE
den I'm feared--'twas de berry day you was dare.
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