The Letter That Was Not Delivered

So the next hour was spent in gossiping with all the blacks which could be
found lounging round the streets. Suddenly one of the negroes called out,
"Ho, Rondeau! Thar's yer old marster Lace comin'. You'd better cut stick
for home, or he'll be in yer har."

Rondeau instantly started for home, where he was greeted by Aunt Dilsey
with a torrent of abuse, that good lady rating him soundly for being gone
too long. "Warn't he 'shamed to be foolin' away his time? 'Twan't his time
nuther, 'twas marster's time. Was that ar fulfillin' of Scripter, which
says, 'we must be all eye sarvants,' which means ye must all keep clus
where yer marsters can see you?"

How long Aunt Dilsey might have gone expounding Scripture is not known,
for Rondeau interrupted her by saying, "Don't scold so, old lady. Marster
ain't a-goin' to care for I've got him something this time better than
victuals or drink."

"What is it?" said Leffie, coming forward. "Have you got him a letter from
Kentuck?"

"I hain't got nothin' else, Miss Leffie Lacey, if you please," said
Rondeau, snapping his fingers in her face, and giving Aunt Dilsey's elbow
a slight jostle, just enough to spill the oil, with which she was filling
a lamp.

"Rondeau, I 'clar' for't," said Aunt Dilsey, setting down her oil can. "If
marster don't crack your head, my old man Claib shall, if he ever gits up
agin. Thar he is in his bunk, snorin' like he was a steamboat; and
marster's asleep upstairs, I reckon. Well, 'tain't no way to live. Things
would go to rack and ruin if I didn't sweat and work to keep 'em right end
up, sartin."