imed. "Where on earth did she lay hands on
that bonnet? Don't stay out too long in the sun, Eugie, or you'll burn
black."

The general caught at the straw.

"I wish you'd tell her she ought to sit in the house, Chris. She wants
to drag me--me out in that heat." But Eugenia drew the sunbonnet over
her dark head and disappeared across the lawn.

* * * * *

Having inspected the farmyard and the stables, she crossed the ragged
field to the negro cabins, where she was received with hilarity.

"Ain't I al'ays tell you she uz de fines' lady in delan'?" demanded
Delphy of the retreating Moses. "Ain't I al'ays tell you dar wa'n't her
match in dese yer parts or outer dem? I ax you, ain't I?"

"Dat's so," admitted Moses meekly.

"Where's Betsey?" inquired Eugenia, twirling her sunbonnet. "Aunt
Verbeny told me the baby died. I am so sorry."

"De Lawd He give, en' de Lawd He teck," returned Delphy piously, "en' He
done been moughty open-handed dis long time. He done give er plum sight
mo'n He done teck, en' it ain' no use'n sayin' He ain'."

"So the others are well?" ventured Eugenia, and as a bow-legged crawler
emerged from beneath the doorstep she added: "Is that the youngest?"

Delphy snorted.

"Dat ar brat, Miss Euginney? He ain' Betsey's, nohow. He's Rindy's Lije,
en' he's de mos' out'n out pesterer sence Mose wuz born."

"Rindy!" exclaimed Eugenia in surprise, lightly touching the small black
body with her foot. "Why, I didn't know Rindy was married. She's working
at the house now."

Delphy seized the child and held him at arm's length while she applied a
sounding box. "Go 'way f'om yer, honey," she said. "Rindy ain' mah'ed.
He's des' an accident. Shet yo' mouth, you imp er darkness, fo' I shet
hit fur you."

"Don't hurt him, Delphy," pleaded the girl. "Rindy ought to be ashamed
of herself, but it isn't his fault. I'm going to send him some clothes.
He looks fat enough, anyhow."

"He's fitten ter bus'," retorted Delphy sternly.

"He don't do nuttin' fur his livin' but eat all day, en' den when night
come he don't do nuttin' but holler kaze de time ter leave off eatin'
done come. He ain' no mo' use'n a weazel."

Eugenia promised to befriend the baby, and left with Delphy's pessimism
ringing in her ears. "He ain' wuth yo' shoestring, he ain'," called the
woman after her.

The girl was as popular among the negroes as she had been as a small
tomboy in pinafores. Her impulsive g