all that, an' yo' stan' up fo' him along of the rest?"

He paused, glowering down at her as if she, too, were white enough to
hate. When she spoke it was very quietly, almost reprovingly.

"My child died. What good was freedom to me without her? Where in all
this wide world would I go with my freedom if I had it? Free and
alone? No," and she shook her head sadly, "I would be like a child
lost from home--helpless. The young folks laughing there never hurt
me--never hurt you."

The people were leaving the dining room. Captain Masterson, who had
time for but a brief call, was walking along the veranda in low
converse with the Judge. Judithe had separated herself from the rest
and walked through the sitting room into the library, when she halted,
surprised at those two facing each other with the air of arrested
combat or argument. She recovered her usual manner enough to glance at
the clock, and as her eyes crossed Margeret's face she saw traces of
tears there.

"It is time, almost, for the mail up from Pocotaligo today, is it not,
Pluto?" she said, moving towards a book-case. Receiving no reply, she
stopped and looked at him, at which he recovered himself enough to
mutter, "Yes, mist'ess," and turned towards the door, his trembling
tones and the half-groping movement as he put his hand out before him
showed he was laboring under some emotion too intense for concealment,
and involuntarily she made a gesture of command.

"Wait! You have grief--some sad misfortune?" and she glanced from his
face to that of Margeret, questioningly. "Poor fellow--is it a
death?"

"No death, and nothing to trouble a white lady with," he said, without
turning, and with hopeless bitterness in his voice; "not fit to be
told 'long side o' white folks merry-maken', only--only Rosa, my boy's
mother, died yeah ago ovah on Larue plantation, an' now the chile
hisself--my Rosa's baby--gwine to be sold away--gwine to be sold to
the traders!"

His voice broke in a sob; all the bitterness was drowned in the wave
of grief under which his shoulders heaved, and his broken breaths made
the only sound in the room, as Judithe turned questioningly to
Margeret, who bent her head in confirmation of his statement.

"But," and the questioner looked a trifle bewildered, "a little child,
that would not mean a great expense, surely if your mistress, or your
master, knew, they would help you."

Margeret shook her head, and Pluto spoke more calmly.

"Not likel