tructed an enclosure for chickens. He bought two or three
young fowls, and by marvels of management founded a family with them. The
family once founded, he made exchanges with friendly coloured matrons of
the vicinity, with such results in breeding that "Uncle Matt's" chickens
became celebrated fowls. He displayed the same gifts in the management of
the garden. In a few months after his arrival, Rupert began to find
himself sitting down before the kind of meal he had not expected to
contemplate again.

"Uncle Matt," he said, "where do I get fried chicken and vegetables like
these--and honey and fresh butter and cream? I don't pay for them."

"Yes, you do, sah. Yo' property pays for 'em. Dat 'ar gyarden, sah, is
black with richness--jest black. It's a forchen for a pusson what kin
contrive an' make fren's, an' trade, an' kin flourish a spade. Dar's
fruit-trees an' grape-vines dar--an' room enuf to plant anything--an'
richness enuf to make peas an' taters an' beets an' cabbages jest jump
out o' de yarth. I've took de liberty of makin' a truck patch, an' I've
got me a chicken coop, an' I've had mighty good luck with my aigs an' my
truck--an' I've got things to trade with the women folks for what I
_ain't_ got. De ladies likes tradin', an' dey's mighty neighbourly about
yeah, 'memberin' yo' fambly, sah."

Rupert leaned back in his chair and broke into a hearty, boyish laugh,
which it was very good both to see and hear. He very seldom laughed.

"I wish I was a genius like you, Matt," he said. "What luck I'm in to
have you. Raising chickens and vegetables, and negotiating with your lady
friends for me! I feel like a caliph with a grand vizier. I never tasted
such chicken or such waffles in my life!"

"I'm settin' some tukkey-eggs now--under de yaller hen," said Matt, with
a slyly exultant grin. "She's a good mother, the yaller hen; an' de way
dem fruit-trees is gwine ter be loaded is a sight. Aunt Mary Field, she's
tradin' with me a'ready agin fruit puttin'-up time."

Rupert got up from his chair. He caught old Matt's dusky, yellow-palmed
paw in his hand and shook it hard. His gloomy young face had changed its
aspect, his eyes suddenly looked like his mother's--and Delia Vanuxem had
been said to have the loveliest soft eyes in all the South.

"Matt," he said, "I couldn't do without you. It isn't only _that_," with
a gesture towards the table, "you--it's almost as if you had come to save
me."

"Ole nigger man like me,