ill about what I've heard 'em say."

"You won't do nothing of the sort," said his wife almost fiercely. "If
you get money, you'll set in to loafin' around Larkinses', an' I won't
see none of it, nor any grub or clothes nuther. Look around the house
an' into the cubboard an' see if you oughtn't to be ashamed of yourself
for swillin' so much apple-jack. Get the grub, I tell you, an' give some
on 'em a hint that you want an order on the store keeper to get me a new
dress I've been needin' for the last six months. That's one way to make
it pay. Then go to that committee an' tell 'em what you've heard them
babolitionists an' free niggers say about John Brown bein' right in what
he did, an' they'll give you sunthin' for bringin' 'em the news."

"But them old stories won't be news."

"No odds. They're what the committee wants, an' you're plumb blind that
you can't see it."

Bud Goble placed his elbows upon his knees, fastened his eyes upon the
glowing coals on the hearth, and took a minute or two to consider the
matter. Then he got upon his feet and went out into the darkness without
telling his wife where he was going or what he intended to do. But that
did not trouble Mrs. Goble. She administered a hearty shake to one of
the ragged children who querulously demanded to know why pap hadn't
brung home sunthin to eat, and then filled a fresh pipe and lighted it
with a brand from the fire.

Bud climbed the fence that ran between the road and the little barren
pasture in which he permitted his pigs to roam (when he had any), worked
his way through a narrow strip of woodland, and finally struck the lane
leading from Mr. Riley's tobacco patch to the negro quarter a double row
of whitewashed cabins in which the field-hands lived. A few minutes
later, after making free use of a club with which he had taken the
precaution to arm himself, and fighting his way through a battalion of
coon dogs that assembled to dispute his progress, he opened the door of
one of the cabins and entered without ceremony. If the occupants had
been white folks, Bud wouldn't have done that; but who ever heard of a
Southern gentleman knocking at a negro's door?

"What made you-uns set there like so many bumps on a log when you heard
me comin'?" was the way in which he greeted Uncle Toby and his family,
who were sitting in front of the fire resting after the labors of the
day. "Why didn't you come out and shoo off them dogs of your'n? You'd
best be mighty c