in't," she added, putting him down at last, but
watching him fondly. "Blink know he's a Bruce. An' he know he's folks
is in tribulatiom, an' hilarity ain't become 'im--dat's huccome Blink
'ain't crowed none--_ain't it, Blink_?"

And Blink wisely winked his knowing eyes. That he had, indeed, never
proclaimed his roosterhood by crowing was a source of some anxiety to
mammy.

"Maybe Blink don't know he's a rooster," she confided to Evelyn one day.
"Sho 'nough, honey, he nuver is seen none! De neares' ter 'isse'f what
he knows is dat ole green polly what set in de fig-tree nex' do', an'
talk Gascon. I seed Blink 'is_tid_day stan' an' look at' im, an' den
look down at 'isse'f, same as ter say, 'Is I a polly, or what?' An' den
'e open an' shet 'is mouf, like 'e tryin' ter twis' it, polly fashion,
an' hit won't twis', an' den 'e des shaken 'is head, an' walk orf, like
'e heavy-hearted an' mixed in 'is mind. Blink don't know what
'spornsibility lay on 'im ter keep our courage up. You heah me, Blink!
Open yo' mouf, an' crow out, like a man!"

But Blink was biding his time.

During this time, in spite of strictest economy, money was going out
faster than it came in.

"I tell yer what I been thinkin', baby," said mammy, as she and Evelyn
discussed the situation. "I think de bes' thing you can do is ter hire
me out. I can cook you alls breckfus' soon, an' go out an' make day's
work, an' come home plenty o' time ter cook de little speck o' dinner
you an' ole boss needs."

"Oh no, no! You mustn't think of it, mammy."

"But what we gwine do, baby? We des _can't_ get out'n _money_. Hit
_won't do_!"

"Maybe I should have taken that position as lady's companion, mammy."

"An' stay 'way all nights f'om yo' pa, when you de onlies' light ter 'is
eyes? No, no, honey!"

"But it has been my only offer, and sometimes I think--"

"Hush talkin' dat-a-way, baby. Don't yer pray? An' don't yer trus' Gord?
An' ain't yer done walked de streets tell you mos' drapped down, lookin'
fur work? An' can't yer teck de hint dat de Lord done laid off yo' work
_right heah in the house_? You go 'long now, an' cheer up yo' pa, des
like you been doin', an' study yo' books, an' write down true joy an'
true sorrer in yo' stories, an' glorify Gord wid yo' sense, an' don't
pester yo'se'f 'bout to-day an' to-morrer, an'--an'--an' ef de gorspil
is de trufe, an'--an' ef a po' ole nigger's prayers mounts ter heaven
on de wings o' faith, Gord ain't gwine let a