Hic."

That was enough for Turner to hear. "Look a-here," he said, "don't you
get flip when you meet your father. He's come a long ways to see you,
and I'm damned if he shan't see you right. Remember you're stoppin' at
my house as long as the old man stays, and if you make a break while
he's here I'll spoil your mug for you. Bring him along, boys."

Zach had started in for a Christmas celebration, but they took him
into an empty room. They sent to the drug store and bought many
things. When the young man came out an hour later he was straight, but
sad.

"Why, Pap," he said when he saw the old man, "I'll be--"

"Hem!" said Turner.

"I'll be blessed!" Zach finished.

The old man looked him over. "Tsch! tsch! tsch! Dis is a Crismus gif'
fu' sho'!" His voice was shaking. "I's so glad to see you, honey; but
chile, you smell lak a 'pothac'ay shop."

"I ain't been right well lately," said Zach sheepishly.

To cover his confusion Turner called for eggnog.

When it came the old man said: "Well, I's Baptis' myse'f, but seein'
it's Crismus--"

JOHNSONHAM, JUNIOR

Now any one will agree with me that it is entirely absurd for two men
to fall out about their names; but then, circumstances alter cases. It
had its beginning in 1863, and it has just ended.

In the first place, Ike and Jim had been good friends on the
plantation, but when the time came for them to leave and seek homes
for themselves each wanted a name. The master's name was Johnson, and
they both felt themselves entitled to it. When Ike went forth to men
as Isaac Johnson, and Jim, not to be outdone, became James Johnsonham,
the rivalry began. Each married and became the father of a boy who
took his father's name.

When both families moved North and settled in Little Africa their
children had been taught that there must be eternal enmity between
them on account of their names, and just as lasting a friendship on
every other score. But with boys it was natural that the rivalry
should extend to other things. When they went to school it was a
contest for leadership both in the classroom and in sports, and when
Isaac Johnson left school to go to work in the brickyard, James
Johnsonham, not to be outdone in industry, also entered the same field
of labor.

Later, it was questioned all up and down Douglass Street, which, by
the way, is the social centre of Little Africa--as to which of the two
was the better dancer or the more gallant beau. It was a p