“Yesm,” said Genesis.  “Now I’m in ‘at Swim—­flyin’ roun’ ev’y night wif all lem blue-vein people—­I say, ‘Mus’ go buy me some blue-vein clo’es!  Ef I’m go’n’ a start, might’s well start high!’ So firs’, I buy me thishere gol’ necktie pin wi’ thishere lady’s face carved out o’ green di’mon’, sittin’ in the middle all ‘at gol’.  ’Nen I buy me pair Royal King shoes.  I got a frien’ o’ mine, thishere Blooie Bowers; he say Royal King shoes same kine o’ shoes he wear, an’ I walk straight in ‘at sto’ where they keep ’em at.  ‘Don’ was’e my time showin’ me no ole-time shoes,’ I say.  ’Run out some them big, yella, lump-toed Royal Kings befo’ my eyes, an’ firs’ pair fit me I pay price, an’ wear ’em right off on me!’ ‘Nen I got me thishere suit o’ clo’es—­oh, oh!  Sign on ’em in window:  ‘Ef you wish to be bes’-dress’ man in town take me home fer six dolluhs ninety-sevum cents.’ ‘’At’s kine o’ suit Genesis need,’ I say.  ‘Ef Genesis go’n’ a start dressin’ high, might’s well start top!’”

Jane nodded gravely, comprehending the reasonableness of this view.  “What made you decide to start, Genesis?” she asked, earnestly.  “I mean, how did it happen you began to get this way?”

“Well, suh, ’tall come ‘bout right like kine o’ slidin’ into it ’stid o’ hoppin’ an’ jumpin’.  I’z spen’ the even’ at ’at lady’s house, Fanny, what cook nex’ do’, las’ year.  Well, suh, ’at lady Fanny, she quit privut cookin’, she kaytliss—­”

“She’s what?” Jane asked.  “What’s that mean, Genesis—­kaytliss?”

“She kaytuhs,” he explained.  “Ef it’s a man you call him kaytuh; ef it’s a lady, she’s a kaytliss.  She does kaytun fer all lem blue-vein fam’lies in town.  She make ref’eshmuns, bring waituhs—­’at’s kaytun.  You’ maw give big dinnuh, she have Fanny kaytuh, an’ don’t take no trouble ’tall herself.  Fanny take all ’at trouble.”

“I see,” said Jane.  “But I don’t see how her bein’ a kaytliss started you to dressin’ so high, Genesis.”

“Thishere way.  Fanny say, ’Look here, Genesis, I got big job t’morra night an’ I’m man short, ‘count o’ havin’ to have a ‘nouncer.’”

“A what?”

“Fanny talk jes’ that way.  Goin’ be big dinnuh-potty, an’ thishere blue-vein fam’ly tell Fanny they want whole lot extry sploogin’; tell her put fine-lookin’ cullud man stan’ by drawin’-room do’—­ask ev’ybody name an’ holler out whatever name they say, jes’ as they walk in.  Thishere fam’ly say they goin’ show what’s what, ‘nis town, an’ they boun’ Fanny go git ’em a ’nouncer.  ‘Well, what’s mattuh you doin’ ’at ‘nouncin’?’ Fanny say.  ‘Who—­me?’ I tell her.  ‘Yes, you kin, too!’ she say, an’ she say she len’ me ’at waituh suit yoosta b’long ole Henry Gimlet what die’ when he owin’ Fanny sixteen dolluhs—­an’ Fanny tuck an’ keep ’at waituh suit.  She use ’at suit on extry waituhs when she got some on her hands what ’ain’t got no waituh suit.  ’You wear ‘at suit,’ Fanny say, ‘an’ you be good ’nouncer,