She came toward Joseph's shop, singing in a high-pitched nasal tone this new song: "De'tit zozos--ye te assis-- De'tit zozos--si la barrier.
De'tit zozos, qui zabotte; Qui ca ye di' mo pas conne.
"Manzeur-poulet vini simin, Croupe si ye et croque ye; Personn' pli' 'tend' ye zabotte-- De'tit zozos si la barrier." "You lak dat song ?" she asked, with a chuckle, as she let down from her turbaned head a flat Indian basket of warm rice cakes.
"What does it mean ?" She laughed again--more than the questioner could see occasion for.
"Dat mean--two lill birds; dey was sittin' on de fence an' gabblin' togeddah, you know, lak you see two young gals sometime', an' you can't mek out w'at dey sayin', even ef dey know demself?
H-ya! Chicken-hawk come 'long dat road an' jes' set down an' munch 'em, an' nobody can't no mo' hea' deir lill gabblin' on de fence, you know." Here she laughed again.
Joseph looked at her with severe suspicion, but she found refuge in benevolence.
"Honey, you ought to be asleep dis werry minit; look lak folks been a-worr'in' you.

I's gwine to pick out de werry bes' _calas_ I's got for you." As she delivered them she courtesied, first to Joseph and then, lower and with hushed gravity, to a person who passed into the shop behind him, bowing and murmuring politely as he passed.

She followed the new-comer with her eyes, hastily accepted the price of the cakes, whispered, "Dat's my mawstah," lifted her basket to her head and went away.

Her master was Frowenfeld's landlord.
Frowenfeld entered after him, calas in hand, and with a grave "Good-morning, sir." "-- m'sieu'," responded the landlord, with a low bow.
Frowenfeld waited in silence.
The landlord hesitated, looked around him, seemed about to speak, smiled, and said, in his soft, solemn voice, feeling his way word by word through the unfamiliar language: "Ah lag to teg you apar'." "See me alone ?" The landlord recognized his error by a fleeting smile.
"Alone," said he.
"Shall we go into my room ?" "_S'il vous plait, m'sieu'_." Frowenfeld's breakfast, furnished by contract from a neighboring kitchen, stood on the table.

It was a frugal one, but more comfortable than formerly, and included coffee, that subject of just pride in Creole cookery.