Part 12

Mr. Dunkin deliberated as he walked down the street. Could there be any truth in Martha Madison’s surmises? He had talked with Alonzo only the day before, and been assured that everything was going right. Could it be that his lieutenant was playing him false? Some suspicious circumstances now occurred to his mind. When he had spoken of going himself to see Miss Callena, he remembered now how Alonzo had insisted that he had matters in such a state that the interference of Mr. Dunkin just at that point would spoil everything. It looked dark. His steps were taking him toward Major Richardson’s. He heard a footstep, and who should be coming toward him, arrayed even as Martha Madison had said, but the subject of his cogitations? Mr. Dunkin thought he saw Alonzo start as their eyes met. He had a bouquet in his hand.

“Hey ho, ’Lonzo. Gwine down to Miss Callena’s?”

“Why—why—ye’—yes. I jes’ thought I would walk down that way in yo’ int’rus’.”

“My! but you sholy has got yo’se’f up fit to kill.”

“When de genul sen’s his messengers out to negoterate, dey mus’ go in full unifo’m, so’s to impress de people dat dey genul is somebody.”

“Jesso,” assented the elder man, “but I don’t want you to be waihin’ out yo’ clothes in my suhvice, ’Lonzo.”

“Oh, dat’s all right, Mistah Dunkin; hit’s a pleasuah, I assuah you.”

“How’s things comin’ on, anyhow, down to Miss Callena’s?”

“Couldn’t be bettah, suh; dey’s most puspicious. Hit’ll soon be time fu’ you to come in an’ tek mattahs in yo’ own han’s.”

“Do you tell Miss Callena ’bout de houses an’ lan’?”

“Oh, yes; I tells huh all about dat.”

“What she say?”

“Oh, she jes’ smiles.”

“I reckon you tol’ huh ’bout de hogs an’ de chickens an’ de hosses?”

“Yes, indeed, I sholy done dat.”

“What she do den?”

“She jes’ smiled.”

“Did you th’ow out a hint ’bout me buyin’ mo’ lan’?”

“Why, co’se I wa’n’t go’n’ to leave dat paht out.”

“Well, den, what did she say?”

“She smiled ag’in.”

“Huh! she mus’ be a gone smiler. ’Pears to me, ’Lonzo, ’bout time she _sayin’_ somep’n’.”

“Oh, she smile ’cause she kin do dat so purty, dat’s de reason she smile.”

“Uh huh! Well, go ’long, I mus’ be gittin’ home.”

Alonzo Taft smiled complacently as he passed on. “Yes,” he said to himself, “it’ll soon be time fu’ Mistah Dunkin to come in an’ tek mattahs in his own han’s. It’ll soon be time.”

He had lost all scruples at his course, and ceased self-questioning.

Mr. Dunkin gave no sign of perturbation of mind as he walked down the street to his cottage. He walked neither faster nor slower than he had gone before seeing Martha Madison. But when he sank down into the depths of his arm-chair in the privacy of his own apartment, he said: “Miss Marfy say dat while I delibe’atin’ Mistah Taf’ walk off wif de lady. Huh uh! Well, I jes’ delibe’ate a little mo’ while I’s a-changin’ my clothes.”

Who shall tell of the charms which Miss Callena displayed that night,—how her teeth gleamed and her eyes sparkled and her voice was alternately merry or melting? It is small wonder that the heart of Alonzo Taft throbbed, and that words of love rushed to his lips and burst into speech. But even then some lingering sense of loyalty made his expressions vague and ambiguous. There was the sea before him, but he hated, nay, feared to plunge in. Miss Callena watched him as he dallied upon the shore of an open declaration, and admired a timidity so rare in a man of Taft’s attainments.

“I know you boun’ to look down on me, Miss Callena,” he said, with subdued ardour, “’cause I’m a ign’ant man. I ain’t had no ejication nor no schoolin’. I’m jes’ a se’f-made man. All I know I’ve lunned f’om de white folks I’ve wo’ked fu’.”

“It isn’t always education that makes the man, Mr. Taft,” said the school-teacher, encouragingly. “I’ve seen a great many men in my life who had all the education and schooling that heart could wish, but when that was said, all was said. They hadn’t anything here.” She pressed her hand feelingly and impressively upon her heart. “It’s the noble heart, after all, that makes the real man.”

Mr. Taft also pressed his hand against his heart and sighed. They were both so absorbed that neither of them saw the shadow that fell on the floor from a form that stood in the doorway.

“As for being self-made,” Miss Callena went on, “why, Mr. Taft, what can be nobler or better for a man to know than that all he has he has got by his own efforts?”

The shadow disappeared, and the form receded from the doorway as the suitor was saying: “I tek no credit to myse’f fu’ what I’ve got, neither in sense or money. But I am glad to say dat I wo’ked fu’ everything myse’f.”

“You have reason to be proud of such a fact.”

They were visibly warming up. Alonzo moved his chair a little nearer, and possessed himself of Miss Callena’s hand. She did not draw it away nor repulse him. She even hung her head. Yes, the proud, educated, queenly Callena Johnson hung her head. Meanwhile, in the darkness of the doorway the form stood and glowered upon them.

“Miss Callena, at a time like dis, I hates to talk to you about de o’dina’y things of life, but when anything se’ious arises, it is allus well fu’ de pahties to know each othah’s circumstances.”

“You are a very sensible man, Mr. Taft.”

“Call me ’Lonzo,” he murmured, patting her hand. “But, as I was going to say, it’s necessary dat you should know de circumstances of anybody who wanted to ax fu’ dis han’ dat I’m a-holdin’.”

Miss Callena turned her head away and was silent. In fact, she held her breath.

“Miss Johnson—Callena—what ’u’d you think of a nice cottage wif no encumbrances on it, a couple o’ nice hosses, a cow an’ ha’f a dozen of de fines’ hogs in Miltonville—”

“An’ all o’ dem mine!” thundered the voice of the form, striding into the middle of the room.

Miss Callena shrieked. Alonzo had been about falling on his knees, but he assumed an erect position with an alacrity that would have done credit to a gymnast.

“Co’se, of co’se, Mistah Dunkin! I was jes’ a-comin’ to dat!”

“I jes’ come down fu’ feah you’d fu’git to tell Miss Callena who all dem things ’longed to, an’ who’s a-layin’ dem at huh feet,” said Mr. Dunkin.

“I ’low Miss Callena unnerstan’ dat,” said Mr. Taft, bobbing his head sheepishly.

“I don’t remember that Mr. Taft explained this before,” said Miss Johnson, turning coldly from him. “Do have a seat, dear Mr. Dunkin.”

Alonzo saw with grief that the idol of his heart had transferred her affectionate smiles to the rightful owner of the other property that had been in question. He made his stay short, leaving Mr. Dunkin in undisputed possession of the field.

That gentleman took no further time for deliberation. He promptly proposed and was accepted. Perhaps even the romantic Miss Callena had an eye to the main chance.

The day after the announcement of the engagement, he met his erstwhile lieutenant on the street.

“Well, well, Mistah Dunkin, we winned huh, didn’t we?” said Alonzo.

“’Lonzo Taf’,” said Mr. Dunkin, deliberately, “I fu’give you, but you ain’t de man I teken you to be.”