Williams calmly represents the case to his
landlord, as he sits in his carriage,--"it has been impossible. We shall
certainly go, just as soon as we can get another house anywhere in
town"--
"I don't want you to get another house in town," interrupts the
full-blooded, red-faced Frisbie. "We have had enough of you. You have
had fair warning. Now out with your traps, and off with you!"
"I trust, at least, Sir, you will give us another week"--
"Not an hour!"
"One day," remonstrates the mild negro; "I don't think you will refuse
us that."
"Not a minute!" exclaims the firm Frisbie. "I've borne with you long
enough. Fact is, we have got tired of niggers in this town. I bought the
house with you in it, or you never would have got in. Now it is coming
down. Call out your folks, and save your stuff, if you're going
to.--Good morning, Adsly," to the master carpenter. "Go to work with
your fellows. Guess they'll be glad to get out by the time you've ripped
the roof off."
Mr. Williams retires, disheartened, his visage surcharged with trouble.
For this wretched dwelling was his home, and dear to him.
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