His father bustled around to the other side of the table. "That
doggoned nigger brought up Kentucky instead of Monongahela!" He lifted
the decanter and began to fill the glasses.
"Hold on! hold on! Don't swamp us," said Dr. Lavendar, He leaned over
to rescue his tumbler, and his good-natured scolding made an instant's
break in the intensity.
"Have some?" said Mr. Wright, turning to his son.
"I--do not drink." The banker uncoiled his leg, and put his hat on the
floor.
His father pounded the decanter down on the table. "Simmons!" he
called out; "light the rest of these lamps, you--you freckled nigger!
Gad-a-mercy! niggers have no sense."
Simmons came stumbling in, the whites of his yellow eyes gleaming with
excitement. While he was fumbling over the lamps, his lean brown
fingers all thumbs, Benjamin Wright insisted upon filling Dr.
Lavendar's tumbler with whiskey until it overflowed and had to be
sopped up by the old minister's red bandanna.
As soon as Simmons could get out of the room, Dr. Lavendar settled
himself to the business which had brought them together. He said to
his senior warden, briefly, that his father was concerned about Sam's
attentions to Mrs. Richie; "he thinks it would be an especially good
time to have the boy see a little of the world, if you will consent?
He says it's 'narrowing to live in Old Chester," said Dr. Lavendar,
slyly jocose;--but Samuel refused to smile, and the old minister went
on with determined cheerfulness.
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