His summons is immediately answered by an exquisite dandy, who is neither African, European, French, nor Spanish, but an odd mixture of the four.  He is dressed in the extreme of fashion, and on entering the room bows most gracefully, at the same time casting an admiring glance at himself in the large mirror, and passing his hand carelessly through his perfumed locks.  With the utmost deference, he awaits the commands of his master.

“Well, Rondeau,” said Dr. Lacey, “haven’t you finished breakfast yet?”

“Yes, marster,” answered Rondeau, with a very low bow.  “I’ve got through a moment since.  What can I do for you.  Will you ride this morning?”

“No,” answered Dr. Lacey, “I do not wish to ride, but I want you to go to the post office and back immediately; remember now, and not stop to gossip.”

“Certainly not,” said the negro.  “When marster’s in a hurry, Rondeau is never foolin’ away time.”

“And don’t stop more than an hour in the kitchen to talk to Leffie.  Do you understand?” continued the doctor.

“Oh, yes, I won’t,” said Rondeau, extending his mouth into a broad grin at his master’s allusion to Leffie, a bright-looking, handsome, mulatto girl, whom next to himself, Rondeau thought was the prettiest creature in the world.

At last he bowed himself out of the room, and proceeded to execute his master’s commands.  On passing the kitchen, he “just looked in a little,” and the sight of Leffie’s bright eyes and rosy lips made him forgetful of his promise.  Going up to her, he announced his intention of kissing her.  A violent squabble ensued, in which the large china dish which Leffie held in her hand was broken, two pickle jars thrown down, chairs upset, the baby scalded, and the dog Tasso’s tail nearly crushed!  At last Aunt Dilsey, the head cook and mother of Leffie, interposed, and seizing the soup ladle as the first thing near her, she laid about her right and left, dealing no very gentle blows at the well-oiled hair of Rondeau, who was glad to beat a retreat from the kitchen, amid the loud laughter of the blacks who had witnessed the scene.

Leaving the house he was soon on his way to the post office, and having procured his master’s mail he started for home.  At length, slackening his pace, he took from his pocket the letters and carefully scrutinized the inscription of each.  He was in the habit of going to the post office, and after his master’s return from Kentucky, he had noticed two or three letters written in what he called “a mighty fineified hand,” and he had whispered to Leffie as a great secret that “’twere his private opinion marster was going to marry some Kentucky girl.”  Recently he had noticed the absence of those letters, and also the absence of his master’s accustomed cheerfulness.  Rondeau was pretty keen, and putting the two circumstances together, he again had a whispered conference with Leffie, whom he told that “most probably the Kentucky girl had flunked, for marster hadn’t had a letter in ever so long, and every time he didn’t get one he looked as blue as a whetstone!”