nigger dat ain’t got no appreciashun, when I can cook and wash fo’ the Perfessor dat know a lady when he sees her.”
“But he so infrequently sees her,” giggled Bambi, sotto voce.
“No, ma'am, I’s eatin’ my white bread right here, and I knows it. I ain’t goin’ to experimentify wid no marryin’, nor givin’ in marriage.”
“In your case, I believe you’re right. In my own, however, I know that, mad as I am this morning, ‘experimentification’ is the breath of life to me.”
They spent the morning in such peaceful converse. While Bambi may not have added greatly to the cherry-pitting, she rose rested and with a collected mind.
“Ardelia, I thank you for a dose of calm,” she said, laying her hand affectionately on the black woman’s broad shoulder.
“Law, honey, I done enjoyed your sassiety,” she said, laughing and patting her hand.
Within the course of a few days Bambi had an appeal from Jarvis:
“Are you ill? Is anything the matter? Are you merely tired of me that you do not write? Your letters are the only event of my days.”
