Ida Black had retired from the most select colored circles for a brief space, on account of a slight difficulty connected with a gentleman's poultry-yard. Her mother was being consoled by a white friend.
"Why, Aunt Easter, I was mighty sorry to hear about Ida - "
"Marse John, Ida ain't nuvver tuk dem chickens. Ida wouldn't do sich a thing! Ida wouldn't demeange herse'f to rob nobody's hen-roost - and, any way, dem old chickens warn't nothing't all but feathers when we picked 'em."
