I'll go, with you. Ever had any champagne, Gideon?"
Gideon struggled for politeness.
"Yes, seh, I's had champagne, and it's a nice kind of lickeh sho
enough; but, Misteh Stuhk, seh, I don' want any of them high-tone
drinks to-night, an' ef yo' don' mind, I'd rather amble off 'lone, or
mebbe eat that po'k-chop with some otheh cullud man, ef I kin fin' one
that ain' one of them no-'count Carolina niggers. Do you s'pose yo'
could let me have a little money to-night, Misteh Stuhk?"
Stuhk thought rapidly. Gideon had certainly worked hard, and he was
not dissipated. If he wanted to roam the town by himself, there was no
harm in it. The sullenness still showed in the black face; Heaven knew
what he might do if he suddenly began to balk. Stuhk thought it wise
to consent gracefully.
"Good!" he said. "Fly to it. How much do you want?
A hundred?"
"How much is coming to me?"
"About a thousand, Gideon."
"Well, I'd moughty like five hun'red of it, ef that's 'greeable to
yo'."
Felix whistled.
"Five hundred? Pork-chops must be coming high. You don't want to carry
all that money around, do you?"
Gideon did not answer; he looked very gloomy.
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