“Glad on’t,” said Leffie.  “Hope he won’t have any your foreigners.  Allus did wish he’d have Miss Mortimer.  Next to old marster and young marster Lacey, her father’s the toppinest man in New Orleans.  And it’s a pity for young marster to stoop.”

After examining all the letters closely, Rondeau came to the conclusion that the right one wasn’t there, and he thought, “Well, Leffie’ll be glad, and marster’ll be sorry, and hang me if I ain’t sorry too, for marster’s a plaguey fine chap, and desarves anybody there is in Kentucky.”

Meanwhile Dr. Lacey was anxiously awaiting Rondeau’s return, and when he caught sight of him, coming at an unusually rapid pace toward the house, he thought, “Surely Rondeau would never hurry so if he had not good news for me,” but the next thought was, “How should he know what it is I am so anxious to get?” Still he waited rather impatiently for Rondeau to make his appearance.  In a moment he entered the room, and commenced pulling the letters from his pocket, saying, “I’ve got a heap this time, marster.”

He then laid them one by one on the marble dressing table, counting them as he did so; “Thar’s one, thar’s two, thar’s three, thar’s four.”

“Stop counting them, can’t you, and give me all you have directly,” said Dr. Lacey, as his eye ran hurriedly over the superscription of each, and found not the one he sought.

“That’s jist what I’ve done, marster,” said Rondeau, bowing.  “The one you want wasn’t thar.”

Dr. Lacey glanced hastily at his servant, and felt assured that the quick-witted negro was in possession of his secret.  “You may go,” said he, “and mind, never let me hear of your commenting about my letters.”

“No, marster, never; ’strue’s I live,” said Rondeau, who left the room and went in quest of Leffie.  But he did not dare to repeat the scene of the morning, for Aunt Dilsey was present, bending over a large tub of boiling suds, and he felt sure that any misdemeanor on his part would call forth a more affectionate shower bath than he cared about receiving.  So he concluded to bring about his purpose by complimenting Aunt Dilsey on her fine figure (she weighed just two hundred!).

“Aunt Dilsey,” said he, “’pears to me you have an uncommon good form, for one as plump and healthy-like as you are.”

Aunt Dilsey was quite sensitive whenever her size was alluded to, and she replied rather sharply:  “You git along, you bar’s ile skullcap.  ’Twon’t be healthy for you to poke fun at me.”

“’Pon my word,” said the mischievous Rondeau, “I ain’t poking fun at you.  I do really think so.  I thought of it last Sunday, when you had on that new gown, that becomes you so well.”

“Which one?” said Aunt Dilsey, a little mollified, “the blue and yaller one?”

“The same,” answered Rondeau.  “It fits you good.  Your arm looks real small in it.”

Leffie was nearly convulsed with laughter, for she had tried the experiment, and found that the distance round her mother’s arm was just the distance round her own slender waist.