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Rh nigger dat ain’t got no appreciashun, when I can cook and wash fo’ the Perfessor dat know a lady when he sees her.”

“But he so infrequently sees her,” giggled Bambi, sotto voce.

“No, ma'am, I’s eatin’ my white bread right here, and I knows it. I ain’t goin’ to experimentify wid no marryin’, nor givin’ in marriage.”

“In your case, I believe you’re right. In my own, however, I know that, mad as I am this morning, ‘experimentification’ is the breath of life to me.”

They spent the morning in such peaceful converse. While Bambi may not have added greatly to the cherry-pitting, she rose rested and with a collected mind.

“Ardelia, I thank you for a dose of calm,” she said, laying her hand affectionately on the black woman’s broad shoulder.

“Law, honey, I done enjoyed your sassiety,” she said, laughing and patting her hand.

Within the course of a few days Bambi had an appeal from Jarvis:

“Are you ill? Is anything the matter? Are you merely tired of me that you do not write? Your letters are the only event of my days.”