My servant was away at a
quilting bee, and we were still in bed, when I heard the latch of
the kitchen-door lifted up, and a step crossed the floor. I jumped
out of bed, and began to dress as fast as I could, when Philander
called out, in his well-known nasal twang -
"Missus! I'm come for the kettle."
I (through the partition ): "You can't have it this morning. We
cannot get our breakfast without it."
Philander: "Nor more can the old woman to hum," and, snatching up
the kettle, which had been left to warm on the hearth, he rushed out
of the house, singing, at the top of his voice -
"Hurrah for the Yankee Boys!"
When James came home for his breakfast, I sent him across to demand
the kettle, and the dame very coolly told him that when she had done
with it I MIGHT have it, but she defied him to take it out of her
house with her bread in it.
One word more about this lad, Philander, before we part with him.
Without the least intimation that his company would be agreeable,
or even tolerated, he favoured us with it at all hours of the day,
opening the door and walking in and out whenever he felt inclined.
I had given him many broad hints that his presence was not required,
but he paid not the slightest attention to what I said.
