Old Creole Days Part 19

"Arti!" called one sister to another in the broad hall, one morning,--mock amazement hi her distended eyes,--"something is goin' to took place!"

"_Comm-e-n-t?_"--long-drawn perplexity.

"Papa is goin' to town!"

The news pa.s.sed up stairs.

"Inno!"--one to another meeting in a doorway,--"something is goin' to took place!"

"_Qu'est-ce-que c'est!_"--vain attempt at gruffness.

"Papa is goin' to town!"

The unusual tidings were true. It was afternoon of the same day that the Colonel tossed his horse's bridle to his groom, and stepped up to old Charlie, who was sitting on his bench under a China-tree, his head as was his fashion, bound in a Madras handkerchief The "old man" was plainly under the effect of spirits and smiled a deferential salutation without trusting himself to his feet.

"Eh, well Charlie!"--the Colonel raised his voice to suit his kinsman's deafness,--"how is those times with my friend Charlie?"

"Eh?" said Charlie, distractedly.

"Is that goin' well with my friend Charlie?"

"In de house,--call her,"--making a pretence of rising.

"_Non, non!_ I don't want,"--the speaker paused to breathe--"ow is collection?"

"Oh!" said Charlie, "every day he make me more poorer!"

"What do you hask for it?" asked the planter indifferently, designating the house by a wave of his whip.

"Ask for w'at?" said Injin Charlie.

"De _house!_ What you ask for it?"

"I don't believe," said Charlie.

"What you would _take_ for it!" cried the planter.

"Wait for w'at?"

"What you would _take_ for the whole block?"

"I don't want to sell him!"

"I'll give you _ten thousand dollah_ for it."

"Ten t'ousand dollah for dis house? Oh, no, dat is no price. He is blame good old house,--dat old house." (Old Charlie and the Colonel never swore in presence of each other.) "Forty years dat old house didn't had to be paint! I easy can get fifty t'ousand dollah for dat old house."

"Fifty thousand picayunes; yes," said the Colonel.

"She's a good house. Can make plenty money," pursued the deaf man.

"That's what make you so rich, eh, Charlie?"

"_Non_, I don't make nothing. Too blame clever, me, dat's de troub'.

She's a good house,--make money fast like a steamboat,--make a barrel full in a week! Me, I lose money all de days. Too blame clever."

"Charlie!"

"Eh?"

"Tell me what you'll take."

"Make? I don't make _nothing_. Too blame clever."

"What will you _take?_"

"Oh! I got enough already,--half drunk now."

"What will you take for the 'ouse?"

"You want to buy her?"

"I don't know,"--(shrug),--"may_be_,--if you sell it cheap."

"She's a bully old house."

There was a long silence. By and by old Charlies commenced--

"Old Injin Charlie is a low-down dog."

"_C'est vrai, oui!_" retorted the Colonel in an undertone.

"He's got Injin blood in him."

"But he's got some blame good blood, too, ain't it?"

The Colonel nodded impatiently.

"_Bien!_ Old Charlie's Injin blood says, 'sell de house, Charlie, you blame old fool!' _Mais_, old Charlie's good blood says, 'Charlie! if you sell dat old house, Charlie, you low-down old dog, Charlie, what de Compte De Charleu make for you grace-gran'muzzer, de dev' can eat you, Charlie, I don't care.'"

"No!" And the _no_ rumbled off in muttered oaths like thunder out on the Gulf. The incensed old Colonel wheeled and started off.

"Curl!" (Colonel) said Charlie, standing up unsteadily.

The planter turned with an inquiring frown.

"I'll trade with you!" said Charlie.