drawing Roxy to her by the waist for their mutual protection.

"Why, chile, he measures land in by de great long shadows dat debbil's
hat throws. Meshach, he sots his eyes on a good farm. Says he, 'I'll
measure dat in!' So he gits out dar some sun-up or sundown, when de sun
jest sots a'mos' on de groun, an' ebery tree an' fence-pos' and standin'
thing goes away over de land, frowin' long crooked shadows. Dat's de
time Meshach stans up, wid dat hat de debbil gib him to make him longer,
jest a layin' on de fields like de shadow of a big church-steeple. He
walks along de road befo' de farm, and wherever dat hat makes a mark on
de ground all between it an' where he walks is ole Meshach's land.
Dat's what he calls his mortgage!"

The children had their mouths wide open; the maids heard with faith only
less than fear.

"But, Aunt Hominy," spoke Roxy, "he never measured in Judge Custis's
house, and all of us in it, that is to be sold."

"Didn't I see him a doin' of it?" whispered Aunt Hominy, stooping as if
to creep, in the contraction of her own fears, and looking up into their
faces with her fists clinched. "He's a ben comin' along de fence on de
darkest, cloudiest nights dis long a time, like a man dat was goin' to
rob something, and peepin' up at Miss Vessy's window. He took de dark
nights, when de streets of Prencess Anne was clar ob folks, an' de dogs
was in deir cribs, an' nuffin' goin' aroun' but him an' wind an' cold
an' rain. One night, while he was watchin' Miss Vessy's window like a
black crow, from de shadow of de tree, I was a-watchin' of him from de
kitchen window. De moon, dat had been all hid, come right from behin' de
rain-clouds all at once, gals, an' scared him like. De moon was low on
de woods, chillen, an' as ole Meshach turned an' walked away, his
debbil's shadow swept dis house in. He measured it in dat night. It's
ben his ever since."

"Well," exclaimed Roxy, after a pause, "I know I wouldn't take hold of
that hat now."

"I am almost afraid to look at it," said Virgie, "but if Miss Vessy told
me to go bring it to her, I would do it."

"Le's us all go together," ventured Aunt Hominy, "and take a peep at it.
Maybe it won't hurt us, if we all go."

Aware that Judge Custis and his wife were not near, the little circle of
servants--Aunt Hominy, Virgie, Roxy, and the four children, from five to
fourteen years of age--filed softly from the kitchen through the covered
colonnade, and thence along the