limped aimlessly around in a circle.

"Where's I gwine?" he mumbled. "_Mis' Simons!_ ... Mis' Simons--wouldn'
nuver 'a' let yer--done me--dat-a-way!" He stumbled off across the
side-walk into the grass, unheeded by a still confused, noisy crowd.
In the grass he still stumbled on.

"Mis' Simons--wouldn' nuver 'a' let yer--'a' let yer--done me--" As he
slipped down again into the grass, his eyes closed.

[Illustration: "''TAIN' GWINE NOBODY ELSE GIT--FRU--DAT--DO',' SHE SAY"]

A crowd of angry, excited men seemed to be still before him--but Mrs.
Simons stood with her back to the door, looking down at them with
a white face. From a step beside her he seemed to be still looking
up at her, while her low, vibrating voice seemed to be still
echoing--echoing:

"Oh, aren't you ashamed of yourselves! _Aren't--you--ashamed!_"

With their reckless, brutish faces flickering before him again, he
thought he was watching only her--watching--while her low voice went
vibrating on--till they turned from her, swearing and laughing! And
then she was stretching out her white hand, catching at one of the
pillars, while she slipped down--down beside him on the step--and her
arms fell around him helplessly.

"You'll--take--care of me!" she cried faintly, "won't you--Ezekiel!"

"Yas'm," came a broken whisper from the grass, "I'll tek cyare o' yer,
Mis' Simons!"

But there was another low voice which he did not understand, and his
eyes opened wide, looking up vacantly at Miss North.

"Ezekiel! Have you--have you--been hurt? Oh, Ezekiel----"

"Yas'm, I reckon I is, Mis' Simons, jes a li'l'," he mumbled,
struggling painfully to his feet; "but I'll--tek cyare o' yer--I'll
tek cyare o' yer, Mis' Simons!"

* * * * *

The next morning he sat in his seat at school, watching Miss North
with large, absent eyes.

"You ought not to have come this morning, Ezekiel," she began gently,
as her eyes rested on his thin, wistful little face; "I don't think
you ought to stay."

"Yas'm, I oughter stay, Miss No'th," he assured her, with a faint
smile. His eyes wandered to the window.

"Did dey ketch 'im?" he questioned suddenly. "Did dey ketch Arch'bal',
Miss No'th?"

"No," she answered, a sudden hot color rising up in her cheeks.
"Archibald's gone away; they can't find him. But he--he needn't have.
They found out it was a mistake; he wasn't the one they wanted."

"Mis' Simons oughter 'a' been yere--ain't she?" he