It was not more than a half hour after this when George Washington came
in and found the Major standing before the long mirror, turning around
and holding his coat back from his plump sides so as to obtain a fair
view of his ample dimensions.
"George Washington," said he.
"Suh."
"I'm afraid I'm growing a little too stout."
George Washington walked around and looked at him with the critical
gaze of a butcher appraising a fat ox.
"Oh! nor, suh, you aint, not to say too stout," he finally decided as
the result of this inspection, "you jis gittin' sort o' potely. Hit's
monsus becomin' to you."
"Do you think so?" The Major was manifestly flattered. "I was
apprehensive that I might be growing a trifle fat,"--he turned
carefully around before the mirror,--"and from a fat old man and a
scrawny old woman, Heaven deliver us, George Washington!"
"Nor, suh, you ain' got a ounce too much meat on you," said George,
reassuringly; "how much you weigh, Marse Nat, last time you was on de
stilyards?" he inquired with wily interest.
The Major faced him.
"George Washington, the last time I weighed I tipped the beam at one
hundred and forty-three pounds, and I had the waist of a girl."
He laid his fat hands with the finger tips touching on his round sides
about where the long since reversed curves of the lamented waist once
were, and gazed at George with comical melancholy.
"Dat's so," assented the latter, with wonted acquiescence. "I 'members
hit well, suh, dat wuz when me and you wuz down in Gloucester tryin' to
git up spunk to co'te Miss Ailsy Mann. Dat's mo'n thirty years ago."
The Major reflected. "It cannot be thirty years!--thir--ty--years," he
mused.
"Yes, suh, an' better, too. 'Twuz befo' we fit de duil wid Jedge
Carrington. I know dat, 'cause dat's what we shoot him 'bout--'cause he
co'te Miss Ailsy an' cut we out."
"Damn your memory! Thirty years! I could dance all night then--every
night in the week--and now I can hardly mount my horse without getting
the thumps."
George Washington, affected by his reminiscences, declared that he had
heard one of the ladies saying, "just the other day," what "a fine
portly gentleman" he was.
The Major brightened.
"Did you hear that? George Washington, if you tell me a lie I'll set
you free!" It was his most terrible threat, used only on occasions of
exceptional provocation.
George vowed that no reward could induce him to be guilty of such
an enormity, and followed it up by so skillful an allusion to the
progressing youth of his master that the latter swore he was right,
and that he could dance better than he could at thirty, and to prove
it executed, with extraordinary agility for a man who rode at twenty
stone, a _pas seul_ which made the floor rock and set the windows and
ornaments to rattling as if there had been an earthquake. Suddenly,
with a loud "Whew," he flung himself into an arm-chair, panting and
perspiring. "It's you, sir," he gasped--"you put me up to it."
"Nor, suh; tain me, Marse Nat--I's tellin' you de truf," asserted
George, moved to defend himself.
"You infernal old rascal, it is you," panted the Major, still mopping
his face--"you have been running riot so long you need regulation--I'll
tell you what I'll do--I'll marry and give you a mistress to manage
you--yes, sir, I'll get married right away. I know the very woman for
you--she'll make you walk chalk!"
For thirty years this had been his threat, so George was no more
alarmed than he was at the promise of being sold, or turned loose upon
the world as a free man. He therefore inquired solemnly,
"Marse Nat, le' me ax you one thing--you ain' thinkin' 'bout givin' me
that ole one for a mistis is you?"
"What old one, fool?" The Major stopped panting. George Washington
denoted the side of his head where Miss Jemima's thin curls nestled.
"Get out of this room. Tell Dilsy to pack your chest, I'll send you off
to-morrow morning."
George Washington blinked with the gravity of a terrapin. It might have
been obtuseness; or it might have been silent but exquisite enjoyment
which lay beneath his black skin.
"George Washington," said the Major almost in a whisper, "what made you
think that?"
It was to George Washington's undying credit that not a gleam flitted
across his ebony countenance as he said solemnly,
"Marse Nat, I ain say I _think_ nuttin--I jis ax you, Is you?--She been
meckin mighty partic'lar quiration 'bout de plantation and how many
niggers we got an' all an' I jis spicionate she got her eye sort o' set
on you an' me, dat's all."
The Major bounced to his feet, and seizing his hat and gloves from the
table, burst out of the room. A minute later he was shouting for his
horse in a voice which might have been heard a mile.