whom suffering and much humiliation had rendered very
mild and patient, if not quite broken-spirited. His voice was indulgent
and gentle, with that mellow richness of tone peculiar to the negro.
After he had spoken, the laughter subsided; and Joe, impressed by the
quiet paternal authority, quickly devised means to obey without
appearing to do so. For it is not so much obedience, as the
manifestation of obedience, that is repugnant to human nature,--not in
children only, but in grown folks as well.

Joe disguised his compliance in this way. He got up, took off the
beggar's hat, put the spectacles into it, holding his hand on a rip in
the crown to keep them from falling through, and passed it around,
walking solemnly in his brother's abused coat.

"I'm Deacon Todd," said he, "taking up a collection to buy Gentleman
Bill a new cut: gunter make a missionary of him!"

He passed the hat to the women and the girls, all of whom pretended to
put in something.

"I ha'n't got nothin'!" said Fessenden's, when it came to him; "I'm real
sorry I but I'll give my hat!"--earnest as could be.

When the hat came to Mr. Williams, he quietly put in his hand and took
out his glasses.

"Here, I've got something for you; I desire to contribute," said
Gentleman Bill.

But Joe was shy of his brother.

"Oh, we don't let the missionary give anything!" he said. "Here's the
hat what you're gunter wear;--give it to him, Cresh!"

Bill disdained the beggar's, contribution; but, in his anxiety to seize
Joe, he suffered his sister to slip up behind him and clap the wet,
ragged straw wreck on his head.

"Oh, Bill! Oh, Bill!" screamed the girls with merriment, in which mother
and grandmother joined, while even their father indulged in a silent,
inward laugh.

"Good!" said Fessenden's; "he may have it!"

Bill, watching his opportunity, made a dash at the pretending Deacon
Todd. That nimble and quick-witted dwarf escaped as fast as his awkward
attire would permit. The bed seemed to be the only place of refuge, and
he dodged under it.

"Come out!" shouted Bill, furious.

"Come in and git me!" screamed Joe, defiant.

Bill, if not too large, was far too dignified for such an enterprise. So
he got the broom, and began to stir Joe with the handle,--not observing,
in his wrath, that, the more he worried Joe, the more he was damaging
his own precious broadcloth.

"I'm the lion to the show!" cried Joe, rolling and tumbling under the
bed to avo