hton unlocked the drawer of his table and took out a small roll of
bank-notes. He tossed it on the table. Lewis picked out two notes from
the roll, and pushed the rest back. He started toward the door. Half-way
he paused and turned to his foster-father.

"Good-by, sir. I'm sorry I let you know that--that I knew."

Leighton did not look up.

"Good-by, Lewis," he said quietly.

Lewis hurried to his little room. He took out all his boyish treasures
and laid them on the bed. How silly they looked, how childish! He swept
them away, and spread a large red handkerchief in their place. He heard
Natalie come in and call for him, but he did not answer. In the
handkerchief he packed his scanty wardrobe. As he knotted the corners
together he heard Mrs. Leighton and mammy chatting lightly with Natalie,
helping her to dress.

Lewis, heavy-hearted, looked about his ugly little room, so bare, but as
friendly as a plain face endeared by years of kindness. From among his
discarded treasures he chose the model in clay of a kid, jumping, the
best he had ever made. He tucked it into his bundle; then he picked up
the bundle, and walked out into the great room, kitchen, sitting and
dining room combined.

Mrs. Leighton and mammy were seated at the table. Beside them stood
Natalie. They turned and looked at Lewis, surprised. Lewis stared at
Natalie. She wore a dress he had seen but twice before and then on great
occasions. It had been a birthday present from her parents. It was a
red, pleated dress. Accordion silk, the women called it.

About Natalie's shoulders was a white, filmy scarf. For the first time
in her life her hair was loosely piled upon her head. Through it and
over it ran a bright ribbon. The gloss of the satin ribbon was as naught
beside the gloss of her shining hair. Her neck, and her arms from the
elbows, were bare. Her neck was very thin. One could almost see the
bones.

"Where are you going, Lewis?" said Mrs. Leighton, listlessly.

Lewis felt the tears rise to his eyes. He was ashamed of them.

"Do not speak to me," he said roughly. "You are a wicked woman. You have
sold Natalie." Then he turned fiercely on mammy. "And you," he
said--"you have dressed her for the market. You are a bad nigger."

Mrs. Leighton gasped and then began to cry softly. Mammy's eyes stared
at Lewis.

"Bad niggah, young Marster?" she mumbled vaguely.

Natalie grasped the table and leaned forward. "Lew!" she cried. "Why,
_Lew_!"

Lewis