soon. This has been no trial, no
fair trial. The little--little--er--details of our domestic life here,
they will--er--arrange themselves, Peter. Gossip--talk, you know, we
must avoid that." The old lawyer stood staring with strange eyes at his
protege. "I--I'm interested in you, Peter. My actions may seem--odd,
but--er--a negro boy going off and doing what you have done--
extraordinary. I--I have spoken to your mother, Caroline, about you
often. In fact, Peter, I--I made some little advances in order that you
might complete your studies. Now, now, don't thank me! It was purely
impersonal. You seemed bright. I have often thought we gentle people of
the South ought to do more to encourage our black folk--not--not as
social equals--" Here the old gentleman made a wry mouth as if he had
tasted salt.

"Stay here and look over the library," he broke off abruptly. "We can
arrange some ground of--of common action, some--"

He settled the lapels of his great-coat with precision, addressed his
palm to the knob of his stick, and marched stiffly out of the library,
around the piazza, and along the dismantled walk to the front gate.

Peter stood utterly astonished at this strange information. Suddenly he
ran after the old lawyer, and rounded the turn of the piazza in time to
see him walk stiffly down the shaded street with tremulous dignity. The
old gentleman was much the same as usual, a little shakier, perhaps, his
tall hat a little more polished, his shiny gray overcoat set a little
more snugly at the collar.

CHAPTER X

The village of Hooker's Bend amuses itself mainly with questionable
jests that range all the way from the slightly brackish to the
hopelessly obscene. Now, in using this type of anecdote, the Hooker's-
Benders must not be thought to design an attack upon the decencies of
life; on the contrary, they are relying on the fact that their hearers
have, in the depths of their beings, a profound reverence for the object
of their sallies. And so, by taking advantage of the moral shock they
produce and linking it to the idea of an absurdity, they convert the
whole psychical reaction into an explosion of humor. Thus the ring of
raconteurs telling blackguardly stories around the stoves in Hooker's
Bend stores, are, in reality, exercising one another in the more
delicate sentiments of life, and may very well be classed as a round
table of Sir Galahads, _sans peur et sans reproche_