able and necessary
contribution to his individuality.

Passing slowly through the crowd, Mingo made his way to a double-seated
buggy shielded from all contingencies of sun and rain by an immense
umbrella. Prom beneath the seat he drew forth a large hamper, and
proceeded to arrange its contents upon a wide bench which stood near.

While this was going on I observed a tall angular woman, accompanied by
a bright-looking little girl, making her way toward Mingo's buggy. The
woman was plainly, oven shabbily, dressed, so that the gay ribbons and
flowers worn by the child were gaudy by contrast. The woman pressed
forward with decision, her movements betraying a total absence of that
undulatory grace characteristic of the gentler sex, while the little
girl dancing about her showed not only the grace and beauty of youth,
but a certain refinement of pose and gesture calculated to attract
attention.

Mingo made way for these with ready deference, and after a little I saw
him coming toward me. He came forward, shook hands, and remarked that
he had brought me an invitation to dine with Mrs. Feratia Bivins.

"Miss F'raishy 'members you, boss," he said, bowing and smiling, "en
she up'n say she be mighty glad er yo' comp'ny ef you kin put up wid
cole vittles an' po' far'; en ef you come," he added on his own
account, "we like it mighty well."

II.

ACCEPTING the invitation, I presently found myself dining with Mrs.
Bivins, and listening to her remarkable flow of small-talk, while Mingo
hovered around, the embodiment of active hospitality.

"Mingo 'lowed he'd ast you up," said Mrs. Bivins, "an' I says, says I,
'Don't you be a-pesterin' the gentulmun, when you know thar's plenty er
the new-issue quality ready an' a-waitin' to pull an' haul at 'im,'
says I. Not that I begrudge the vittles--not by no means; I hope I
hain't got to that yit. But somehow er 'nother folks what hain't got no
great shakes to brag 'bout gener'ly feels sorter skittish when strange
folks draps in on 'em. Goodness knows I hain't come to that pass wher'
I begrudges the vittles that folks eats, bekaze anybody betweenst this
an' Clinton, Jones County, Georgy, 'll tell you the Sanderses wa'n't
the set to stint the'r stomachs. I was a Sanders 'fore I married, an'
when I come 'way frum pa's house hit was thes like turnin' my back on a
barbecue. Not by no means was I begrudgin' of the vittles. Says I,
'Mingo,' says I, 'ef the gentulmun is a teetotal stranger, an'