A ponderous black woman appeared in the door and filled it.
“Is you froo?”
“Yes, go ahead, Ardelia.”
“Hab the Perfessor gone already?”
“Yes, he’s gone.”
“Well, he suttinly did tell me to remin’ him of suthin’ this mohnin’, and I cain’t des perzactly bemember what it was.”
“Was it important?”
“Yassum. Seemed lak I bemember he tell me it was impo'tant.”
“Serves him right for not telling me.”
“It suttinly am queer the way he can’t bemember. Seem lak his haid so full of figgers, or what you call them, ain’ no room for nuthin’ else.”
“You and father get zero in memory—that’s sure.”
“I ain’t got no trubble dat way, Miss Bambi. I bemember everything, ‘cepting wot you tell me to bemember.”
The dining-room door flew open at this point, and a handsome youth, with his hair upstanding, and his clothes in a wrinkle, appeared on the threshold. Bambi rose and started for him.
