e boy's sister, not raising his eyes this time; and,
holding the child's hand tightly in his, he walked out to the porch.

Moses was there to assist him with his long blue mantle; the boy clung
to his gloved hand a moment, then stepped back into the doorway, where
the old servant shuffled about, muttering half aloud: "Yaas, suh. Done
tole you so. He bow lak de quality, he drink lak de Garnetts--what I
tole yo'? Mars Will'm, ef dat ossifer ain' er gin'ral, he gwine be
mighty quick!"

"I don't care," said the boy, "I just love him."

The negro shuffled out across the moonlit veranda, peered around through
the fragrant gloom, wrinkled hands linked behind his back. Then he
descended the steps stiffly, and teetered about through the shrubbery
with the instinct of a watchdog worn out in service.

"Nuff'n to scare nobody, scusin' de hoot owls," he muttered. "Spec'
hit's time Miss Celia bolt de do', 'long o' de sodgers an' all de
gwines-on. Shoo! Hear dat fool chickum crow!" He shook his head, bent
rheumatically, and seated himself on the veranda step, full in the
moonlight. "All de fightin's an' de gwines-on 'long o' dis here wah!" he
soliloquized, joining his shriveled thumbs reflectively. "Whar de use?
Spound dat! Whar all de fool niggers dat done skedaddle 'long o' de
Linkum troopers? Splain dat!" He chuckled; a whip-poor-will answered
breathlessly.

"Dar dat scan'lous widder bird a-hollerin'!" exclaimed the old man,
listening. "'Pears lak we's gwine have moh wah, moh daid men, moh
widders. Dar de ha'nt! Dar de sign an' de warnin'. G'way, widder bird."
He crossed his withered fingers and began rocking to and fro, crooning
softly to himself:

"Butterfly a-flyin' in de Chinaberry tree
(Butterfly, flutter by!),
Kitty gull a-cryin' on the sunset sea
(Fly, li'l gull, fly high!),
Bully bat a-follerin' de moon in de sky,
Widder bird a-hollerin', 'Hi, dar! Hi!'
Tree toad a-trillin'
(Sleep, li'l honey!
De moon cost a shillin'
But we ain't got money!),
Sleep, li'l honey,
While de firefly fly,
An' Chuck-Will's Widder holler,
'Hi, dar! Hi!'"

Before dawn the intense stillness was broken by the rushing music of the
birds--a careless, cheery torrent of song poured forth from bramble and
woodland. Distant and nearer cockcrows rang out above the melodious
tumult, through which a low, confused undertone, scarcely apparent at
first, was growing louder--the dull sound of t