Right toodle-link-uh, toodle-link-uh, Da-a-dee e-e-aye! “So den he died, giv’ up de Ghos’. To Abrum’s buzzum he did pos’— Right toodle-link-uh-day, Right toodle-link-uh-day—” [Pg 111] “Good morning, Uncle Jefferson.” The singer broke off his refrain, set down the twig-broom that he had been wielding and came toward him. “Mawnin’, suh. Mawnin’,” he said. “Hopes yo’-all slep’ good. Ah reck’n dem ar birds woke yo’ up; dey’s makin’ seh er ’miration.” “Thank you. Never slept better in my life. Am I laboring under a delusion when I imagine I smell coffee?” Just then there came a voice from the open door of the kitchen: “Calls yo’se’f er man, yo’ triflin’ reconstructed niggah! W’en marstah gwineter git he brekfus’ wid’ yo’ ramshacklin’ eroun’ wid dat dawg all dis Gawd’s-blessid mawnin’? Go fotch some mo’ fiah-wood dis minute. Yo’ heah?” A turbaned head poked itself through the door, with a good-natured leaf-brown face beneath it, which broadened into a wide smile as its owner bobbed energetically at Valiant’s greeting. “Fo’ de Lawd!” she exclaimed, wiping floury hands on a gingham apron. “Yo’ sho’ is up early, but Ah got yo’ brekfus’ mos’ ready, suh.” “All right, Aunt Daphne. I’ll be back directly.” He sped down to the lake to plunge his head into the cool water and thereby sharpen the edge of an appetite that needed no honing. From the little valley through which the stream meandered, rose a curdled mist, fraying now beneath the warming sun. [Pg 112]The tall tangled grass through which he passed was beaded with dew like diamonds and hung with a thousand fairy jeweled webs. The wild honeysuckle was alive with quick whirrings of hummingbirds, and he hung his pocket-mirror from a twig and shaved with a woodsy chorus in his ears. He came up the trail again to find the reading-stand transferred to the porch and laid with a white cloth on which was set a steaming coffee-pot, with fresh cream, saltless butter and crisp hot biscuit; and as he sat down, with a sigh of pure delight, in his dressing-gown—a cr py Japanese thing redeemed from womanishness by the bold green bamboo of its design—Uncle Jefferson planted before him a generous platter of bacon, eggs and potatoes. These he attacked with a surprising keenness. As he buttered his fifth biscuit he looked at the dog, rolling on his back in morning ecstasy, with a look of humorous surprise. “Chum,” he said, “what do you think of that? All my life a single roll and a cup of coffee have been the most I could ever negotiate for breakfast, and then it was apt to taste like chips and whetstones. And now look at this plate!” The dog ceased winnowing his ear with a hind foot and looked back at his master with much the same expression. Clearly his own needs had not been forgotten. “Reck’n Ah bettah go ter git dat ar machine [Pg 113]thing,” said Uncle Jefferson behind him. “Ol’ ’ooman, heah, she ’low ter fix up de kitchen dis mawnin’ en we begin on de house dis evenin’.”