nsion which Mrs. Bivins assumed as she said
this, the tone of apology which she employed in paying this tribute to
Mingo and the Wornum negroes, formed a remarkable study. Evidently she
desired me distinctly to understand that in applauding these worthy
coloured people she was in no wise compromising her own dignity.

Thus Mrs. Bivins rattled away, pausing only long enough now and then to
deplore my lack of appetite. Meanwhile Mingo officiated around the
improvised board with gentle affability; and the little girl, bearing
strong traces of her lineage in her features--a resemblance which was
confirmed by a pretty little petulance of temper--made it convenient
now and again to convey a number of tea cakes into Mingo's hat, which
happened to be sitting near, the conveyance taking place in spite of
laughable pantomimic protests on the part of the old man, ranging from
appealing nods and grimaces to indignant frowns and gestures.

"When Deely died," Mrs. Bivins went on, waving a towel over a tempting
jar of preserves, "they wa'n't nobody but what was afeared to break it
to Emily Wornum, an' the pore chile'd done been buried too long to talk
about before her ma heern tell of it, an' then she drapped like a clap
er thunder had hit 'er. Airter so long a time, Mingo thar he taken it
'pun hisse'f to tell 'er, an' she flopped right down in 'er tracks, an'
Mingo he holp 'er into the house, an', bless your life, when he come to
he'p 'er out'n it, she was a changed 'oman. 'Twa'n't long 'fore she
taken a notion to come to my house, an' one mornin' when I was
a-washin' up dishes, I heern some un holler at the gate, an' thar sot
Mingo peerched up on the Wornum carry-all, an' of all livin' flesh, who
should be in thar but ole Emily Wornum!

"Hit's a sin to say it," continued Mrs. Bivins, smiling a dubious
little smile that was not without its serious suggestions, "but I
tightened up my apern strings, an' flung my glance aroun' tell hit
drapped on the battlin'-stick, bekaze I flared up the minnit I seen
'er, an' I says to myse'f, says I: 'If hit's a fracas youer huntin', my
lady, I lay you won't hafter put on your specs to fine it.' An' then I
says to Pud, says I--

"'Pud Hon, go in the shed-room thar, chile, an' if you hear anybody
a-hollerin' an' a-squallin', thes shet your eyeleds an' grit your teeth,
bekaze hit'll be your pore ole granny a-tryin' to git even with some er
your kin.'

"An' then I taken a cheer an' sot down by the