troyed her
reliance on the result. And as the chicken was now approaching
perfection, and required her undivided attention, she gave up the
arithmetic and applied herself to her culinary duties.

Ephraim also abandoned the attempt, and waited in a reverie, in which
he saw corn stand so high and rank over his land that he could scarcely
distinguish the bulk, and a stable and barn and a mule, or maybe two--
it was a possibility--and two cows which his wife would milk, and a
green wagon driven by his boys, while he took it easy and gave orders
like a master, and a clover patch, and wheat, and he saw the' yellow
grain waving, and heard his sons sing the old harvest song of "Cool
Water" while they swung their cradles, and--

"You say he gwine turn Ole 'Stracted out, too?" inquired his wife,
breaking the spell. The chicken was done now, and her mind reverted to
the all-engrossing subject.

"Yes; say he tired o' ole 'stracted nigger livin' on he place an'
payin' no rent."

"Good Gord A'mighty! Pay rent for dat ole pile o' logs! Ain't he been
mendin' he shoes an' harness for rent all dese years?"

"'Twill kill dat ole man to tu'n him out dat house," said Ephraim; "he
ain 'nuver stay away from dyah a hour since he come heah."

"Sutny 'twill," assented his wife; then she added, in reply to the rest
of the remark, "Nuver min'; den we'll see what he got in dyah." To a
woman, that was at least some compensation. Ephraim's thoughts had
taken a new direction.

"He al'ays feared he marster'd come for him while he 'way," he said, in
mere continuance of his last remark.

"He sen' me wud he marster comin' to-night, an he want he shut," said
his wife, as she handed him his supper. Ephraim's face expressed more
than interest; it was tenderness which softened the rugged lines as he
sat looking into the fire. Perhaps he thought of the old man's
loneliness, and of his own father torn away and sold so long ago,
before he could even remember, and perhaps very dimly of the beauty of
the sublime devotion of this poor old creature to his love and his
trust, holding steadfast beyond memory, beyond reason, after the
knowledge even of his own identity and of his very name was lost.

The woman caught the contagion of his sympathy.

"De chil'n say he mighty comical, an' he layin' down in de baid," she
said.

Ephraim rose from his seat.

"Whar you gwine?"

"I mus' go to see 'bout him," he said, simply.

"Ain' you gwine finish eatin'?"