ets away from him."

Both men laughed heartily again.

"But, say," objected Throgmartin, who was something of a lawyer
himself,--as, indeed, all Southern men are,--"I thought the Sons and
Daughters of Benevolence owed Hooker, not Peter Siner, nor Ca'line's
estate."

"Well, it _is_ the Sons and Daughters, but Ca'line was one of 'em,
and they ain't no limited li'bility 'sociation. Henry can jump on
anything any of 'em's got. Henry got the Persimmon to bring him a copy
of their by-laws."

"Well, I swear! Say, if Henry wasn't kind of held back by his religion,
he'd use a gun, wouldn't he?"

"I dunno. I can say this for Henry's religion: 'It's jest like Henry's
wife,--it's the dearest thing to his heart; he'd give his life for it,
but it don't do nobody a damn bit of good except jest Henry.'"

The constable's little eyes twinkled as he heard Throgmartin roaring
with laughter and sputtering appreciative oaths.

At that moment a ringing of the bell jarred the ears of both
telephonists. A voice asked for Dr. Jallup. It was an ill time to
interrupt two gentlemen. The flair of a jest is lost in a pause. The
officer stated sharply that he was the constable of Wayne County and was
talking business about the county's prisoners. His tone was so charged
with consequence that the voice that wanted a doctor apologized hastily
and ceased.

Came a pause in which neither man found anything to say. Laughter is
like that,--a gay bubble that a touch will destroy. Presently Bobbs
continued, gravely enough:

"Talking about Siner, he's stayin' up at old man Renfrew's now."

"'At so?"

"Old Rose Hobbett swears he's doin' some sort of writin' up there and
livin' in one of the old man's best rooms."

"Hell he is!"

"Yeah?" the constable's voice questioned Throgmartin's opinion about
such heresy and expressed his own.

"D' recken it's so? Old Rose is such a thief and a liar."

"Nope," declared the constable, "the old nigger never would of made up a
lie like that,--never would of thought of it. Old Cap'n Renfrew's
gettin' childish; this nigger's takin' advantage of it. Down at the
liver'-stable the boys were talkin' about Siner goin' to git married,
an' dern if old man Renfrew didn't git cut up about it!"

"Well," opined Throgmartin, charitably, "the old man livin' there all by
himself--I reckon even a nigger is some comp'ny. They're funny damn
things, niggers is; never know a care nor trouble. Lord! I wish I was as
care-free as