“Endurin’ de las’ year dat de young Mastah was to be erway, his pappy seemed lak he was jes’ too happy an’ res’less fu’ anything. He was dat proud of his son, he didn’t know whut to do. He was allus tellin’ visitors dat come to de house erbout him, how he was a ’markable boy an’ was a-gwine to be a honour to his name. An’ when ’long to’ds de ve’y end of de term, a letter come sayin’ dat Mas’ Tho’nton had done tuk some big honour at de college, I jes’ thought sho Mas’ Jack ’u’d plum bus’ hisse’f, he was so proud an’ tickled. I hyeahd him talkin’ to his ole frien’ Cunnel Mandrey an’ mekin’ great plans ’bout whut he gwine to do when his son come home. He gwine tek him trav’lin’ fus’ in Eur’p, so’s to ‘finish him lak a Venable ought to be finished by seein’ somep’n’ of de worl’—’ dem’s his ve’y words. Den he was a-gwine to come home an’ ‘model de house an’ fit it up, ’fu’’—I never shell fu’git how he said it,—‘fu’ I ’spec’ my son to tek a high place in de society of ole Kintucky an’ to mo’ dan surstain de reputation of de Venables.’ Den when de las’ day come an’ young Mastah was home fu’ sho, so fine an’ clever lookin’ wif his new mustache—sich times ez dey was erbout dat house nobidy never seed befo’. All de frien’s an’ neighbours, ’scusin’, o’ co’se, de Jamiesons, was invited to a big dinner dat lasted fu’ hours. Dey was speeches by de gent’men, an’ evahbidy drinked de graderate’s health an’ wished him good luck. But all de time I could see dat Mas’ Tho’nton wasn’t happy, dough he was smilin’ an’ mekin’ merry wif evahbidy. It ’pressed me so dat I spoke erbout hit to Aunt Emmerline. Aunt Emmerline was Mas’ Tho’nton’s mammy, an’ sence he’d growed up, she didn’t do much but he’p erroun’ de house a little. “‘You don’ mean to tell me dat you noticed dat too?’ says she when I tol’ huh erbout it. “‘Yes, I did,’ says I, ‘an’ I noticed hit strong.’ “‘Dey’s somep’n’ ain’t gwine right wif my po’ chile,’ she say, ‘an’ dey ain’t no tellin’ whut it is.’ “‘Hain’t you got no idee, Aunt Emmerline?’ I say. “‘La! chile,’ she say in a way dat mek me think she keepin’ somep’n’ back, ‘la! chile, don’ you know young mans don’ come to dey mammys wif dey secuts lak dey do when dey’s babies? How I gwine to know whut’s pesterin’ Mas’ Tho’nton?’ “Den I knowed she was hidin’ somep’n’, an’ jes’ to let huh know dat I’d been had my eyes open too, I say slow an’ ’pressive lak, ‘Aunt Emmerline, don’ you reckon hit Miss Nellie Jamieson?’ She jumped lak she was skeered, an’ looked at me right ha’d; den she say, ‘I ain’ reck’nin’ nuffin’ ’bout de white folks’ bus’ness.’ An’ she pinched huh mouf up right tight, an’ I couldn’t git another word outen huh; but I knowed dat I’d hit huh jes’ erbout right.