the handle. In course I want
to obleege you. Thar, thar! Now what do you want to have wrote? We ain't
going to quarrel--old friends like us."

"Ain't we!" cried Clorinda, folding her arms. "Then jis you keep a civil
tongue, dat's all. Times is changed, and der's a new misses a comin';
but you may all onderstand dat I rules de kitchen yet, and I'se gwine
to."

"Sartin, sartin! Wal now, about these here billet ducks," said Caleb,
cunningly; "I must hurry up, you see, or I shan't get round afore
night."

Clorinda forgot her injured feelings in excitement about the party, and
ordered him to commence work without farther delay.

"Wal," said Caleb, spreading out the paper again, "I'll leave a blank
for the names, that'll save trouble. I reckon you want somethin' like
this--'Miss Clorindy and Miss Victory's compliments--'"

"What's Vic got to do wid it, I'd like to know?" Clo burst in; "it's my
party, just 'member dat. It's enough to hev her company, widout her
settin' up for a hostage."

"Any thing to suit," said Caleb, patiently. "Wal, then I'll say that
Miss Clorindy hopes to have the pleasure of Mr. so and so's company, and
wants to see you to a little tea drinkin' this evening."

"Lord!" cried Clo. "If ye hain't got no more larnin' dan dat, I'd better
find somebody else! Do yer tink I got pink paper and silver-sprigged
'welopers to write sich trash on? Tea drinkin' indeed! Why dis here's to
be a rigler scrumptious, fash'nable 'tainment! I want yer to say, 'Miss
Clorindy consents her most excruciating compliments, and begs to state
that, owing to de 'picious ewent ob de master's weddin', she takes dis
opportunity to 'quest de 'stinguished company ob Mr. Otheller Jones for
dis evenin', to a reparatory 'tainment; and she would furder mention dat
dare will be plenty ob weddin'-cake, wid a ring in it, ice cream in
pinnacles, red and white, and a dance in de laundry to fiddles.' Dar,
dat's somethin' like."

"Yes," said Caleb, quite breathless; "now tell it to me as I get ahead,
'cause it's a mighty long rigmarole."

"Oh," added Clorinda, "den at the bottom you must put--' P. S.--Yaller
gloves and 'rocur pumps, if convenient.'"

That last touch of elegance quite upset Caleb, and he began to think
that if Clorinda was black, and couldn't write her name, she really was
a wonderful woman. Clo was so softened by his applause that they got on
very harmoniously, and the invitations were written out in Clorinda's
peculiar