‘Miss Julia, ma’am,’ I say—­’Miss Julia, ma’am, my bizniss cookin’ vittles,’ I say.  ‘Miss Julia, ma’am,’ I tole her, ’Miss Julia, ma’am, I cook fer you’ pa, an’ cook fer you’ fam’ly year in, year out, an’ I hope an’ pursue, whiles some might make complaint, I take whatever I find, an’ I leave whatever I find.  No’m, Miss Julia, ma’am,’ I say—­’no’m, Miss Julia, ma’am, I ain’t no cat-washwoman!’”

“What did Aunt Julia say then?”

“She say, she say:  ‘Di’n I tell you take them cats downstairs an’ clean ‘em?’ she say.  I ain’t nobody’s cat-washwoman!”

Florence was becoming more and more interested.  “I should think that would be kind of fun,” she said.  “To be a cat-washwoman. I wouldn’t mind that at all:  I’d kind of like it.  I expect if you was a cat-washwoman, Kitty Silver, you’d be pretty near the only one was in the world.  I wonder if they do have ’em any place, cat-washwomen.”

“I don’ know if they got ’em some place,” said Kitty Silver, “an’ I don’t know if they ain’t got ’em no place; but I bet if they do got ’em any place, it’s some place else from here!”

Florence looked thoughtful.  “Who was it you said is going to call this evening and see ’em?”

“Mista Sammerses.”

“She means Newland Sanders,” Herbert explained.  “Aunt Julia says all her callers that ever came to this house in their lives, Kitty Silver never got the name right of a single one of ’em!”

“Newland Sanders is the one with the little moustache,” Florence said.  “Is that the one you mean by ‘Sammerses,’ Kitty Silver?”

“Mista Sammerses who you’ Aunt Julia tole me,” Mrs. Silver responded stubbornly.  “He ain’t got no moustache whut you kin look at—­dess some blackish whut don’ reach out mo’n halfway todes the bofe ends of his mouf.”

“Well,” said Florence, “was Mr. Sanders the one gave her these Persian cats, Kitty Silver?”

“I reckon.”  Mrs. Silver breathed audibly again, and her expression was strongly resentful.  “When she go fer a walk ’long with any them callers she stop an’ make a big fuss over any li’l ole dog or cat an’ I don’t know whut all, an’ after they done buy her all the candy from all the candy sto’s in the livin’ worl’, an’ all the flowers from all the greenhouses they is, it’s a wonder some of ’em ain’t sen’ her a mule fer a present, ‘cause seem like to me they done sen’ her mos’ every kine of animal they is!  Firs’ come Airydale dog you’ grampaw tuck an’ give away to the milkman; ‘n’en come two mo’ pups; I don’t know whut they is, ‘cause they bofe had dess sense enough to run away after you’ grampaw try learn ’em how much he ain’t like no pups; an’ nex’ come them two canaries hangin’ in the dinin’-room now, an’ nex’—­di’n’ I holler so’s they could a-hear me all way down town?  Di’n’ I walk in my kitchen one mawnin’ right slam in the face of ole warty allagatuh three foot long a-lookin’ at me over the aidge o’ my kitchen sink?”