All four dogs were on their feet now, their tails wagging expectantly, their noses at each of his knees, where they were regaled at regular intervals with choice bits from his plate, the snapping of their solemn jaws expressing their thanks.

A second scallop-shell was next lifted from the hearth with the tongs, and deposited sizzling hot on a plate beside the master, the aroma of the oysters filling the room.

These having disappeared, as had the former one, together with the waffles and coffee, and the master's appetite being now on the wane, general conversation became possible.
"Did Mr.Rutter look ill, Todd ?" he continued, picking up the thread of the talk where he had left it.

"He wasn't very well when I left." "No, sah,--neber see him look better.

Been up a li'l' late I reckon,--Marse Harry mos' gen'ally is a li'l' mite late, sah--" Todd chuckled.