I ain't got no sister--not yere!"

"Why, I thought you couldn't come back to me because you had to nurse
some member of your family who had kittens, or some such misery in her
spine--wasn't that it, Todd?" said St. George trying to conceal a smile.

Todd shot a beseeching look at Jemima to confirm his picturesque yarn,
but the old woman would have none of it.

"Dere ain't been nobody to tek care ob but des me. I come yere 'cause
I knowed ye didn't hab no money to keep me, an' I got back de ol'
furniture what I had fo' I come to lib wid ye, an' went to washin', an'
if dat yaller skunk's been tellin' any lies 'bout me I'm gwineter wring
his neck."

"No, let Todd alone," laughed St. George, his heart warming to the old
woman at this further proof of her love for him. "The Lord has already
forgiven him that lie, and so have I. And now what have you got
upstairs?"

They had mounted the steps by this time and St. George was peering into
a clean, simply furnished room. "First rate, aunty--your lumber-yard
man is in luck. And now put that in your pocket," and he handed her the
package.

"What's dis?"

"Nearly half a year's wages."

"I ain't gwineter take it," she snapped back in a positive tone.

St. George laid his hand tenderly on the old woman's shoulder. She had
served him faithfully for many years and he was very fond of her.

"Tuck it in your bosom, aunty--it should have been paid long ago."

She looked at him shrewdly: "Did de bank pay ye yit, Marse George?"

No

"Den I ain't gwineter tech it--I ain't gwineter tech a fip ob it!" she
exploded. "How I know ye ain't a-sufferin' fer it! See dat wash?--an' I
got anudder room to rent if I'm min' ter scrunch up a leetle mo'. I kin
git 'long."

St. George's hand again tightened on her shoulder.

"Take it when you can get it, aunty," he said in a more serious tone,
and turning on his heel joined Todd below, leaving the old woman in
tears at the top of the stairs, the money on her limp outspread fingers.

All the way back to his home--they had stopped to replenish the larder
at the market--St. George kept up his spirits. Absurd as it was--he
a man tottering on the brink of dire poverty--the situation from his
stand-point was far from perilous. He had discharged the one debt that
had caused him the most anxiety--the money due the faithful old cook; he
had a basketful of good things--among them half a dozen quail and three
diamond-back terrapin--the cheapest foo