“You know whut I means. I means I 's gwine to leab dis place.”
“Now look here, Rose,” protested the lawyer, with dignity, “Peter Siner occupies almost a fiduciary relation to me.”
The old negress stared with a slack jaw. “A relation o' yo's!”
The lawyer hesitated some seconds, looking at the hag. His high-bred old face was quite inscrutable, but presently he said in a serious voice:
“Peter occupies a position of trust with me, Rose.”
“Yeah,” mumbled Rose; “I see you trus' him.”
“One day he is going to do me a service, a very great service, Rose.”
The hag continued looking at him with a stubborn expression.
“You know better than any one else, Rose, my dread of some—some unmannerly death—”
The old woman made a sound that might have meant anything.
“And Peter has promised to stay with me until—until the end.”
The old negress considered this solemn speech, and then grunted out:
“Which en'?”
“Which end?” The Captain was irritated.
“Yeah; yo' en' or Peter's en'?”
“By every law of probability, Peter will outlive me.”
“Yeah, but Peter 'll come to a en' wid you when he
