False as I knew old Dinah to be--almost on principle--still, I could not
disregard the possible truth of her passing warning, given in broken
whisper first as she poured out my tea and afterward prepared my bath.
"Honey, don't you touch no tea nor coffee dis evening after Dinah goes
out ob here an' de bolt am fetched home; jus' make 'tence to drene it
down, like, but don't swaller one mortal drop, for dey is gwine to give
you a dose of laudamy"--nodding sagaciously and peering into the teapot
as she interpolated aloud; "sure enough, it is full ob grounds, honey!
(I heerd 'um say dat wid my own two blessed yers), for de purpose of
movin' you soun' asleep up to dat bell-tower (belfry, b'leves dey call
it sometimes)--he! he! he! next door, in dat big house, war de res' on
'em libs, de little angel gal too. You see, honey, der was an ossifer to
sarve a process writ about somebody here dis mornin', but dar was
something wrong about it, so dey all said, an' he is comin' to sarch de
house for you, I spec', to-morrow; for de hue an' cry is out somehow--or
mebbe it's me--he! he! he! (very faintly) an' dey is gwine to move you,
so dey says, to keep all dark, after you gets soun' asleep. But de
ossifer is 'bleeged to wait till mornin' (court-time, as I heerd 'em
say) comes roun' agin to git de _haby-corpy_ fixed up right, an' dat's
how he spounded hisself.
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