Thomas Dixon
The Sins of the Father: A Romance of the South
"Yassah, an' she sho is a powerful fine young lady, sah. I don't blame Mister Tom fer bein' crazy 'bout her!"
There was a moment's dead silence.
"So Tom's crazy about her?" he said in a high, nervous voice, which Andy took for a joke.
"Yassah, I'se had some sperience myself, sah, but I ain't nebber seen nuttin' like dis! He des trot long atter her day an' night like a fice. An' de funny thing, sah, is dat he doan' seem ter know dat he's doin' it. Everybody 'bout de house laffin' fit ter kill dersef an' he don't pay no 'tention. He des sticks to her like a sick kitten to a hot brick! Yassah, hit sho's funny! I des knowed you'd bust er laughin' when you sees 'em."
Norton had sunk to a seat too weak to stand. His face was pale and his breath came in short gasps as he turned to the negro, stared at him hopelessly for a moment and said:
"Andy, get me a good horse and buggy at the livery stable – we'll drive through the country to-night. I want to get home right away."
Andy's mouth opened and his eyes stared in blank amazement.
"De Lawd, major, hit's mos' sundown now an' hit's a hundred miles from here home – hit took me all day ter come on de train."
"No, it's only forty miles straight across the country. We can make it to-night with a good horse. Hurry, I'll have my valise packed in a few minutes."
"Do you know de way, sah?" Andy asked, scratching his head.
"Do as I tell you – quick!" Norton thundered.
The negro darted from the room and returned in half an hour with a horse and buggy.
Through the long hours of the night they drove with but a single stop at midnight in a quiet street of a sleeping village. They halted at the well beside a store and watered the horse.
A graveyard was passed a mile beyond the village, and Andy glanced timidly over his shoulder at the white marble slabs glistening in the starlight. His master had not spoken for two hours save the sharp order to stop at the well.
"Dis sho is er lonesome lookin' place!" Andy said with a shiver.
But the man beside him gave no sign that he heard. His eyes were set in a strange stare at the stars that twinkled in the edge of the tree tops far ahead.
Andy grew so lonely and frightened finally at the ominous silence that he pretended to be lost at each crossroads to force Norton to speak.
"I wuz afraid you gone ter sleep, sah!" he said with an apologetic laugh. "An' I wuz erfered dat you'd fall out er de buggy gwine down er hill."
In vain he tried to break the silence. There was no answer – no sign that he was in the same world, save the fact of his body's presence.
The first streak of dawn was widening on the eastern horizon when Norton's cramped legs limped into the gate of his home. He stopped to steady his nerves and looked blankly up at the window of his boy's room. He had given Tom his mother's old room when he had reached the age of sixteen.
Somewhere behind those fluted pillars, white and ghost-like in the dawn, lay the girl who had suddenly risen from the dead to lead his faltering feet up life's Calvary. He saw the cross slowly lifting its dark form from the hilltop with arms outstretched to embrace him, and the chill of death crept into his heart.
The chirp of stirring birds, the dim noises of waking life, the whitening sky-line behind the house recalled another morning in his boyhood. He had waked at daylight to go to his traps set at the branch in the edge of the woods behind the barn. The plantation at that time had extended into the town. A fox had been killing his fancy chickens. He had vowed vengeance in his boyish wrath, bought half a dozen powerful steel-traps and set them in the fox's path. The prowler had been interrupted the night before and had not gotten his prey. He would return sure.
He recalled now every emotion that had thrilled his young heart as he bounded along the dew-soaked path to his traps.
Before he could see the place he heard the struggles of his captive.
"I've got him!" he shouted with a throb of savage joy.
He leaped the fence and stood frozen to the spot. The fox was a magnificent specimen of his breed, tall and heavy as a setter dog, with beautiful appealing eyes. His fine gray fur was spotched with blood, his mouth torn and bleeding from the effort to break the cruel bars that held his foreleg in their death-like grip. With each desperate pull the blood spurted afresh and the steel cut deeper into bone and flesh.
The strange cries of pain and terror from the trapped victim had struck him dumb. He had come with murder in his heart to take revenge on his enemy, but when he looked with blanched face on the blood and heard the pitiful cries he rushed to the spot, tore the steel arms apart, loosed the fox, pushed his quivering form from him and gasped:
"Go – go – I'm sorry I hurt you like that!"
Stirred by the memories of the dawn he lived this scene again in vivid anguish, and as he slowly mounted the steps of his home, felt the steel bars of an inexorable fate close on his own throat.
CHAPTER VIII
BEHIND THE BARS
When Norton reached his room he locked the door and began to pace the floor, facing for the hundredth time the stunning situation which the presence of Helen had created.
To reveal to such a sensitive, cultured girl just as she was budding into womanhood the fact that her blood was tainted with a negro ancestor would be an act so pitifully cruel that every instinct of his nature revolted from the thought.
He began to realize that her life was at stake as well as his boy's. That he loved this son with all the strength of his being and that he only knew the girl to fear her, made no difference in the fundamental facts. He acknowledged that she was his. He had accepted the fact and paid the penalty in the sacrifice of every ambition of a brilliant mind.
He weighed carefully the things that were certain and the things that were merely probable. The one certainty that faced him from every angle was that Cleo was in deadly earnest and that it meant a fight for the supremacy of every decent instinct of his life and character.
Apparently she had planned a tragic revenge by luring the girl to his home, figuring on his absence for three months, to precipitate a love affair before he could know the truth or move to interfere. A strange mental telepathy had warned him and he had broken in on the scene two months before he was expected.
And yet he couldn't believe that Cleo in the wildest flight of her insane rage could have deliberately meant that such an affair should end in marriage. She knew the character of both father and son too well to doubt that such an act could only end in tragedy. She was too cautious for such madness.
What was her game?
He asked himself that question again and again, always to come back to one conclusion. She had certainly brought the girl into the house to force from his reluctant lips her recognition and thus fix her own grip on his life. Beyond a doubt the surest way to accomplish this, and the quickest, was by a love affair between the boy and girl. She knew that personally the father had rather die than lose the respect of his son by a confession of his shame. But she knew with deeper certainty that he must confess it if their wills once clashed over the choice of a wife. The boy had a mind of his own. His father knew it and respected and loved him all the more because of it.
It was improbable as yet that Tom had spoken a word of love or personally faced such an issue. Of the girl he could only form the vaguest idea. It was clear now that he had been stricken by a panic and that the case was not so desperate as he had feared.
One thing he saw with increasing clearness. He must move with the utmost caution. He must avoid Helen at first and find the boy's attitude. He must at all hazards keep the use of every power of body, mind and soul in the crisis with which he was confronted.
Two hours later when Andy cautiously approached his door and listened at the keyhole he was still pacing the floor with the nervous tread of a wounded lion suddenly torn from the forest and thrust behind the bars of an iron cage.
CHAPTER IX
ANDY'S DILEMMA
Andy left Norton's door and rapped softly at Tom's, tried the lock, found it unfastened, pushed his way quietly inside and called:
"Mister Tom!"
No answer came from the bed and Andy moved closer:
"Mister Tom – Mister Tom!"
"Ah – what's the matter with you – get out!" the sleeper growled.
The negro touched the boy's shoulder with a friendly shake, whispering:
"Yo' Pa's here!"
Tom sat up in bed rubbing his eyes:
"What's that?"
"Yassah, I fotch him through the country and we rid all night – "
"What's the matter?'
"Dat's what I wants ter see you 'bout, sah – an' ef you'll des slip on dem clothes an' meet me in de liberry, we'll hab a little confab an' er council er war – "
The boy picked up a pillow and hurled it at Andy:
"Well, get out, you old rascal, and I'll be down in a few minutes."
Andy dodged the pillow and at the door whispered:
"Yassah, an' don't disturb de major! I hopes ter God he sleep er month when he git started."
"All right, I won't disturb him."
Tom dressed, wondering vaguely what had brought his father home at such an unearthly hour and by such a trip across the country.
Andy, arrayed in a suit of broadcloth which he had appropriated from Norton's wardrobe in his absence, was waiting for Tom with evident impatience.
"Now, what I want to know is," the boy began, "what the devil you mean by pulling me out of bed this time of day?"
Andy chuckled:
"Well, yer see, sah, de major git home kinder sudden like en' I wuz jest er little oneasy 'bout dis here new suit er close er mine – "
"Well, that's not the first suit of his clothes you've swiped – you needn't be scared."
"Scared – who me? Man, I ain't er skeered er yo' Pa."
Minerva banged the dining-room door and Andy jumped and started to run. Tom laughed and seized his arm:
"Oh, don't be a fool! There's no danger."
"Nasah – I knows dey's no danger – but" – he glanced over his shoulder to be sure that the master hadn't come down stairs – "but yer know de ole sayin' is dat indiscretion is de better part er value – "
"I see!" Tom smiled in perfect agreement.
"An' I des has er little indiscretion – "
"Oh, you make me tired, how can I help a coward?"
Andy looked grieved:
"Lordy, Mister Tom – don't say dat, sah. I ain't no coward – I'se des cautious. Ye know I wuz in dat fus' battle er Bull's Run wid de major. I git separated from him in a close place an' hatter move my headquarters. Dey said I wuz er coward den 'cause I run. But twan't so, sah! Twan't cause I wuz er coward. I knowed zactly what I wuz doin'. I run 'cause I didn't hab no wings! I done de very bes' I could wid what I had. An' fuddermo', sah, de fellers dat wuz whar I wuz en' didn't run – dey's all dar yit at Bull's Run! Nasah, I ain't no coward. I des got de indiscretion – "
Another door slammed and Andy dodged.
"What's the matter with you anyhow, you old fool, are you having fits?" Tom cried.
Andy looked around the room cautiously and took hold of the boy's coat:
"You listen to me, Mister Tom. I'se gwine tell yer somfin' now – "
"Well?"
"I ain't er skeered er de major – but he's dangous – "
"Bosh!"
"Dey's sumfin' de matter wid him!"
"Had a few mint juleps with a friend, no doubt."
"Mint juleps! Huh! He kin swim in 'em – dive in 'em an' stay down er whole day an' never come up ter blow his bref – licker don't faze him!"
"It's politics. He's leading this devilish campaign and he's worried over politics."
"Nasah!" Andy protested with a laugh. "Dem fool niggers des well give up – dey ain't gwine ter vote no mo'. De odder feller's doin' all de worryin'. He ain't worrin' – "
"Yes, he is, too," the boy replied. "He put a revolver in his pocket when he started on that trip."
"Yassah!" Andy laughed. "I know, but yer don't understan'. Dat pistol's his flatform!"
"His platform?"
"You ain' hear what he bin er doin' wid dat pistol?"
"No – what?"
"Man erlive, yer des oughter see 'im yistiddy when I take 'im dem papers ter dat speakin', down in one er dem po' white counties full er Radicals dat vote wid niggers. Er Kermittee comes up an' say dat de Internal Constertooshion er de Nunited States give 'em free speech an' he gwine ter hear from 'em. De Lordy, man, but his bristles riz! I 'lows ter myself, folks yer sho is thumpin' de wrong watermillion dis time!"
"And what did he say to the Committee?"
"I nebber hear nary word. He des turn 'roun an' step up on dat flatform, kinder peart like, an' yer oughter see 'im open dat meetin'" – Andy paused and broke into a loud laugh.
"How did he open it?" Tom asked with indulgent interest.
Andy scratched his woolly head:
"Well, sah, hit warn't opened wid prayer – I kin tell ye dat! De fust thing he done, he reach back in his britches, kinder kereless lak, an' pull dat big pistol an' lay hit down afore him on' de table beside his pitcher er lemonade. Man, you oughter see de eyes er dat crowd er dirty-lookin' po' whites! Dey fairly popped outen der heads! I hump myself an' move out towards de outskirts – "
Tom smiled:
"I bet you did!"
"Oh, I didn't run!" Andy protested.
"Of course not – far be it from you!"
"Nasah, I des tucken drawed out – "
"I understand, just a little caution, so to speak!"
"Yassah – dat's hit! Des tucken drawed out, whar I'd have elbow room in de mergency – "
"In other words," the boy interrupted, "just used a little indiscretion!"
Andy chuckled:
"Yassah! Dat's hit! Well, sah, he pat dat pistol kinder familious like an' say: 'Ef dey's any er you lowlife po' white scoundrels here ter-day that don't want ter hear my speech – git! But ef yer stay an' yer don't feel comfortable, I got six little lead pills here in a box dat'll ease yer pain. Walk right up to de prescription counter!'"
"And they walked right up?"
"Well, sah, dey didn't crowd up!– nasah!" Andy paused and laughed immoderately. "An' wid dat he des folded his arms an' look at dat crowd er minute an' his eyes began to spit fire. When I see dat, I feels my very shoes commin' ontied. I sez ter myself, now folks he's gwine ter magnify – "
Tom laughed:
"Magnified, did he?"
The negro's eyes rolled and he lifted his hands in a gesture of supreme admiration:
"De Lordy, man – ef he didn't! He lit inter dem po' white trash lak er thousand er brick – "
"Give 'em what Paddy gave the drum, I suppose?"
"Now yer talkin', honey! Ef he didn't give 'em particular hell!"
"And what happened?"
"Nuttin' happened, chile – dat's what I'm tryin' ter tell ye. Nary one of 'em nebber cheeped. Dey des stood dar an' listened lak er passel er sheep-killin' dogs. Lemme tell ye, honey, politics ain't er worryin' him. De odder fellers doin' all de worrin'. Nasah, dey's sumfin else de matter wid de major – "
"What?"
Andy looked around the room furtively and whispered:
"Dar's a quare look in his eye!"
"Ah, pooh!"
"Hit's des lak I tells ye, Mister Tom. I ain't seed dat quare look in his eye before since de night I see yo' Ma's ghost come down outen dat big picture frame an' walk cross dis hall – "
The boy smiled and looked at the shining yellow canvas that seemed a living thing gleaming in its dark setting:
"I suppose, of course, Andy, you really saw her do that?"
"'Fore God, es sho's I'm talkin' ter you now, she done dat thing – yassah! Hit wus de las' year befo' you come back frum college. De moon wuz shinin' froo dem big windows right on her face, an' I seed her wid my own eyes, all of a sudden, step right down outen dat picture frame an' walk across dis room, huggin' her baby close up in her arms – an' you'se dat very baby, sah!"
The boy was interested in the negro's weird recital in spite of his amusement. He shook his head and said laughingly:
"Andy, you've got the heat – "
"Hit's des lak I tells ye, sah," Andy solemnly repeated. "I stood right dar by dat table froze in my tracks, till I seed her go froo dat do' widout openin' it – "
"Bah!" Tom cried in disgust.
"Dat she did! – an' Miss Minerva she see her do dat same thing once before and tell me about it. But man erlive, when I see it, I let off one er dem yells dat wuz hark from de tomb – "
"I bet you did!"
"Yassah, I went froo dat big window dar an' carry de whole sash wid me. De major he take out atter me when he hears de commotion, an' when he kotch me down dar in de fiel' I wuz still wearin' dat sash fer a necktie!"
The boy laughed again:
"And I suppose, of course, he believed all you told him?"
The negro rolled his eyes solemnly to the ceiling and nodded his head:
"Dat he did, sah. When I fust told 'im dat I seed er ghost, he laft fit ter kill hissef – "
The boy nodded:
"I don't doubt it!"
"But mind ye," Andy solemnly continued, "when I tells him what kin' er ghost I seed, he nebber crack anudder smile. He nebber open his mouf ergin fer er whole day. An' dis here's what I come ter tell ye, honey – "
He paused and glanced over his shoulder as if momentarily fearing the major's appearance.
"I thought you'd been telling me?"
"Nasah, I ain't told ye nuttin' yit. When I say what kine er ghost I see – dat quare look come in his eye – de same look dat come dar yistiddy when I tells 'im dat Miss Helen wuz here."
The boy looked at Andy with a sudden start:
"Ah, how could that sweet little girl upset him? He's her guardian's attorney and sent for her to come, of course – "
"I don't know 'bout dat, sah – all I know is dat he went wil' es quick es I tells 'im, an' he bin wil' ever since. Mister Tom, I ain't skeered er de major – but he's dangous!"
"Ah, Andy, you're the biggest fool in the county," the boy answered laughing. "You know my father wouldn't touch a hair of your kinky head."
Andy grinned.
"'Cose not, Mister Tom," he said with unction. "I knows dat. But all de same I gotter keep outen his way wid dis new suit er close till I see 'im smilin' – "
"Always bearing in mind that indiscretion is the better part of value!"
"Yassah – yassah – dat's hit – an' I wants you ter promise you'll stan' by me, sah, till de major's in a good humor."
"All right; if you need me, give a yell."
Tom turned with a smile to go, and Andy caught his sleeve and laughed again:
"Wait – wait er minute, Mister Tom – hold yer hosses. Dey's anodder little thing I wants ye ter help me out erbout. I kin manage de major all right ef I kin des keep outen his sight ter-day wid dis suit er clothes. But de trouble is, I got ter wear 'em, sah – I got er 'pintment wid er lady!"
The boy turned good-naturedly, threw his leg over the corner of the table and raised his eyebrows with a gleam of mischief:
"Oh, a lady! Who is she? Aunt Minerva?"
Andy waved his hands in disgust.
"Dat's des de one hit ain't – nasah! I can't stan' her nohow, Mr. Tom. I des natchally can't stan' er fat 'oman! An' Miss Minerva weighs 'bout three hundred – "
"Oh, not so bad as that, Andy!"
"Yassah, she's er whale! Man, ef we wuz walkin' along tergedder, en she wuz ter slip an' fall she'd sqush de life outen me! I'd nebber know what hit me. An' what makes bad matters wus, I'se er strong suspicion dat she got her eyes sot on me here lately – I des feels it in my bones – she's atter me sho, sah."
Tom broke into a laugh:
"Well, she can't take you by force."
"I don't know 'bout dat, sah. When any 'oman gits her min' sot she's dangous. But when a 'oman big an' black es she make up her min'!"
"Black!" Tom cried, squaring himself and looking Andy over: "Aren't you just a little shady?"
"Who? Me? – nasah! I ain't no black nigger!"
"No?"
"Nasah! I'se what dey calls er tantalizin' brown!"
"Oh, I see!"
"Yassah, I'se er chocolate-colored gemman – an' I nebber could stan' dese here coal-black niggers. Miss Minerva's so black she kin spit ink!"
"And she's 'atter' you?"
"Yassah, an' Miss Minerva's a widder 'oman, an' ye know de Scripter says, 'Beware of widders' – "
"Of course!" Tom agreed.
"I'se er gemman, yer know, Mister Tom. I can't insult er lady, an' dat's de particular reason dat I wants ter percipitate mysef wid my true love before dat big, black 'oman gits her hands on me. She's atter me sho, an' ef she gits me in er close place, what I gwine do, sah?"
Tom assumed a judicial attitude, folded his arms and asked:
"Well, who's the other one? – who's your true love?"
Andy put his hand over his mouth to suppress a snicker:
"Now dat's whar I kinder hesitates, sah. I bin er beatin' de debbil roun' de stump fur de pas' week tryin' ter screw up my courage ter ax ye ter help me. But Mister Tom, you gettin' so big an' dignified I kinder skeered. You got ter puttin' on more airs dan de major – "
"Ah, who is she?" the boy asked brusquely.
Andy glanced at him out of the corners of his rolling eyes:
"Yer ain't gwine laugh at me – is yer?"
With an effort Tom kept his face straight:
"No, I may be just as big a fool some day myself – who is she?"
Andy stepped close and whispered:
"Miss Cleo!"
"Cleo – "
"Yassah."
"Well, you are a fool!" the boy exclaimed indignantly.
"Yassah, I spec I is," Andy answered, crestfallen, "but I des can't hep it, sah."
"Cleo, my nurse, my mammy – why, she wouldn't wipe her foot on you if you were a door-mat. She's almost as white as I am."
"Yassah, I know, an' dat's what make me want her so. She's mine ef I kin git her! Hit des takes one drap er black blood to make er nigger, sah."
"Bah – she wouldn't look at you!"
"I know she holds er high head, sah. She's been eddicated an' all dat – but you listen ter me, honey – she gwine look at me all de same, when I say de word."
"Yes, long enough to laugh."
Andy disregarded the shot, and prinked himself before the mirror:
"Don't yer think my complexion's gettin' little better, sah?"
Tom picked up a book with a smile:
"You do look a little pale to-day, but I think that's your liver!"
Andy broke into a laugh:
"Nasah. Dat ain't my liver!"
"Must be!"
"Nasah! I got er patent bleacher frum New York dat's gwine ter make me white ef I kin des buy enough of it."
"How much have you used?"
"Hain't used but six bottles yit. Hit costs three dollars a bottle" – he paused and rubbed his hands smoothingly over his head. "Don't yer think my hair's gittin' straighter, sah?"
Tom turned another page of the book without looking up:
"Not so that you could notice it."
"Yassah, 'tis!" Andy laughed, eyeing it sideways in the mirror and making a vain effort to see the back of his head. "I'se er usin' er concoction called 'Not-a-Kink.' Hit costs five dollars a bottle – but man, hit sho is doin' de work! I kin des feel dem kinks slippin' right out."
"There's nothing much the matter with your hair, Andy," Tom said, looking up with a smile, "that's the straightest thing about you. The trouble's inside."
"What de matter wid me inside?"
"You're crooked."
"Who – me?" Andy cried. "Ah, go long, Mister Tom, wid yer projectin' – yer des foolin' wid me" – he came close and busied himself brushing the boy's coat and continued with insinuating unction – "now ef yer des put in one little word fer me wid Miss Cleo – "
"Take my advice, Andy," the boy said seriously, "keep away from her – she'll kill you."
"Not ef you help me out, sah," Andy urged eagerly. "She'll do anything fer you, Mister Tom – she lubs de very ground you walks on – des put in one little word fer me, sah – "
Tom shook his head emphatically:
"Can't do it, Andy!"
"Don't say dat, Mister Tom!"
"Can't do it."
Andy flicked imaginary lint from both sleeves of Tom's coat:
"Now look here, Mister Tom – "
The boy turned away protesting:
"No, I can't do it."
"Lordy, Mister Tom," Andy cried in grieved tones. "You ain't gwine back on me like dat des 'cose yer went ter college up dar in de Norf an' git mixed up wid Yankee notions! Why, you an' me's always been good friends an' partners. What ye got agin me?"
A gleam of mischief slipped into the boy's eyes again as he folded his arms with mock severity:
"To begin with, you're the biggest old liar in the United States – "
"Lordy, Mister Tom, I nebber tell a lie in my life, sah!"
"Andy – Andy!"
The negro held his face straight for a moment and then broke into a laugh:
"Well, sah, I may has pré-var-i-cated some times, but dat ain't lyin' – why, all gemmens do dat."
"And look at this suit of clothes," Tom said severely, "that you've just swiped from Dad. You'd steal anything you can get your hands on!"
Andy turned away and spoke with deep grief
"Mister Tom, you sho do hurt my feelin's, sah – I nebber steal nuttin' in my life."
"I've known you to steal a palm-leaf fan in the dead of winter with snow on the ground."
Andy laughed uproariously:
"Why, man, dat ain't stealin! Who gwine ter want er palm-leaf fan wid snow on de groun'? – dat's des findin' things. You know dey calls me Hones' Andy. When dey ketch me wid de goods I nebber try ter lie outen it lak some fool niggers. I des laugh, 'fess right up, an' hit's all right. Dat's what make 'em call me Hones' Andy, cose I always knows dat honesty's de bes' policy – an' here you comes callin' me a thief – Lordee, Mister Tom, yer sho do hurt my feelin's!"
The boy shook his head again and frowned:
"You're a hopeless old sinner – "
"Who, me, er sinner? Why, man erlive, I'se er pillar in de church!"
"God save the church!"
"I mebbe backslide a little, sah, in de winter time," Andy hastened to admit. "But I'se always de fus' man to de mourners' bench in de spring. I mos' generally leads de mourners, sah, an' when I comes froo an' gits religion over again, yer kin hear me shout er mile – "
"And I bet when the chickens hear it they roost higher the next night!"
Andy ignored the thrust and went on enthusiastically:
"Nasah, de church folks don't call me no sinner. I always stands up fer religion. Don't yer min' de time dat big yaller nigger cum down here from de Norf er castin' circumflexions on our church? I wuz de man dat stood right up in de meetin' an' defends de cause er de Lawd. I haul off an' biff 'im right in the jaw – "
"And you're going to ask Cleo to marry you?"
"I sho' is, sah."
"Haven't you a wife living, Andy?" the boy asked carelessly.
The whites of the negro's eyes suddenly shone as he rolled them in the opposite direction. He scratched his head and turned back to his friendly tormentor with unction:
"Mr. Tom, I'm gwine ter be hones' – cose honesty is de bes' policy. I did marry a lady, sah, but dat wuz er long time ergo. She run away an' lef me an' git married ergin an' I divorced her, sah. She don't pester me no mo' an' I don't pester her. Hit warn't my fault, sah, an' I des put her away ez de Bible sez. Ain't dat all right, sah?"
"Well, it's hardly legal to-day, though it may have been a Biblical custom."
"Yassah, but dat's nuttin' ter do wid niggers. De white folks make de laws an' dey hatter go by 'em. But niggers is niggers, yer know dat yosef, sah."
Tom broke into a laugh:
"Andy, you certainly are a bird!"
The negro joined in the laugh with a joyous chuckle at its close:
"Yassah, yassah – one er dese here great big brown blackbirds! But, Lordy, Mister Tom, yer des foolin' wid me – yer ain't got nuttin' 'gin yer ole partner, barrin' dem few little things?"
"No, barring the few things I've mentioned, that you're a lazy, lying, impudent old rascal – barring these few little things – why – otherwise you're all right, Andy, you're all right!"
The negro chuckled joyfully:
"Yassah – yassah! I knowed yer warn't gwine back on me, Mister Tom." He edged close and dropped his voice to the oiliest whisper: "You'll say dat good word now to Miss Cleo right away, sah?"
The boy shook his head:
"The only thing I'll agree to do, Andy, is to stand by and see you commit suicide. If it's any comfort to you, I'll tell you that she'll kill you."
"Nasah! Don't yer believe it. Ef I kin des escape dat fat 'oman wid my life before she gits me – now dat you'se on my side I kin read my titles clar – "
"Oh, you can get rid of Minerva all right!"
"For de Lord sake, des tell me how!"
Tom bent toward him and spoke in low tones:
"All you've got to do if Minerva gets you in a tight place is to confess your real love and ask her to help you out as a friend."
Andy looked puzzled a moment and then a light broke over his dusky face:
"Dat's a fine plan, Mister Tom. You saved er nigger's life – I'll do dat sho!"
"As for Cleo, I can't do anything for you, but I won't do anything against you."
"Thankee, sah! Thankee, sah!"
When Tom reached the door he paused and said:
"I might consent to consult with the undertaker about the funeral and act as one of your pall-bearers."
Andy waved him away with a suppressed laugh:
"G'way frum here, Mister Tom! G'way frum here!"
The negro returned to the mirror, adjusted his suit and after much effort succeeded in fixing a new scarfpin of a horseshoe design in the centre of the bow of one of Norton's old-fashioned black string ties. He dusted his shoes, smoothed as many of the kinks out of his hair as a vigorous rubbing could accomplish, and put the last touches on his elaborate preparations for a meeting with Cleo that was destined to be a memorable one in her life.
