to think that he might have
something very like a "walk over."

"Hold on, Webb," a voice called behind him, and a moment later he was
joined by Diggs, who congratulated him upon his speech of the evening
before. Webb tossed back the congratulations with a laugh. "Yes, it's a
popular subject just now," he said. "Since the negroes have stopped
voting in large numbers we're even going in for honest elections."

"Well, I reckon it's as well," admitted Diggs. "We used to have some
rampant rascality under the old system, I dare say; it took clever
trickery to bring in the white rule sometimes. We have a large negro
majority down my way, that obliged us to devise original methods of
disposing of it. It was fighting the devil with fire, I suppose; but
self-preservation was a law long before Universal Suffrage was heard of.
At any rate, I had my hand in it now and then. Once, I remember, on an
election day when every darkey in the neighbourhood had turned out to
vote, I hit on the idea that the man who was to carry the returns across
the river should pretend to get drunk and upset the boat. It was a
pretty scheme and would have worked all right, but, will you believe it,
the blamed fool got drunk in earnest, and when the boat upset he was
caught under it and drowned." He paused an instant and complacently
added: "But we lost those returns, all the same."

Webb threw his cigar stump in the gutter and turned to Diggs with a
laugh. "That reminds me," he began, and started a story which he
finished on his office steps.

When he went home some hours later he found that Eugenia had regained
her high good-humour. She was sitting before the fire in her bedroom,
her hair flowing in the hands of Delphy, who had moved up from
Kingsborough, and was doing a thriving trade as a shampooer. It was her
fortnightly custom to pass from head to head in a round of the
Kingsborough colony, promoting an intimate trend of gossip among her
patrons.

As Dudley entered, she was seeking to induce Eugenia to consent to an
application from one of the many bottles she carried in an ancient
travelling bag, which had long since descended to her from General
Battle.

"Lawd, Miss Euginny, dis yer ain' gwineter hu't you. Hit ain' nuttin but
ker'sene oil nohow. Miss Sally Burwell des let me souse her haid in it
de udder day. Hit'll keep you f'om gittin' gray, sho's I live."

"You shan't touch me with it, Delphy. And you ought to be ashamed--I
haven't a gr