At about the fifth such mention of “servants,” Jamie, the Californian I’d met on the American Queen, interjected: “Do you mean they were slaves?” “Of course they were,” the guide testily replied. “How many slaves were here, and where did they live?” “About thirty house servants; they had quarters out back.” She moved briskly on, pointing out where the boudoir and conservatory were to have been. After a quick stop at the restrooms, located in the former slave quarters, we were herded back onto the bus. “They can’t even mouth the S-word,” Jamie stewed in the seat beside me. “For them it’s like
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