t evuh fell upon
my back! But yo' snatched dat whip out of his ban' an' den yo' laid it,
with ev'y ounce of stren'th war in yo', right acrost his face!"

Layson, unwilling to be harsh with the old man and forbid him to say
more, ostentatiously busied himself, now, about the table with the
frying-pan and other dishes, hoping, thus, to discourage further talk of
this sort.

"No, suh," Neb went on with shaking head, "I jus' nachelly don' like
him. Don't like _either_ of 'em. An' he, Marse Frank, he nevuh _will_
fuhgit dat blow, an' don't you think he will!"

"That's all over, long ago," said Frank, as he put the finishing touches
on the old man's supper. "And what had Barbara to do with it? She can't
help what her father does."

Neb drew up to the table with a continuously shaking head. For months he
had desired to speak his mind to his young master, but had never dared
to take so great a liberty. Now the unusual circumstances they were
placed in, the fact that he had been lost in the mountains in his
service and half scared to death, imbued him with new boldness.

"She kain't he'p what he does, suh, no," said he. "But listen, now,
Marse Frank, to po' ol' Neb. De pizen vine hit don't b'ar peaches, an'
nightshade berries--dey ain't hulsome, eben ef dey're pooty."

"Neb, stop that!" Layson commanded sharply.

The old negro half slipped from the chair in which he had been sitting
wearily. Once he had started on the speech which he had made his mind
up, months ago, that, some day, he would screw his courage up to, he
would not be stopped.

"Oh, honey," he exclaimed, holding out his tremulous old hands in a
gesture of appeal, while the fire-light flickered on a face on which
affection and real sincerity were plain, "I's watched ovuh you evuh
sence yo' wuh a baby, an' when I see dat han'some face o' hers was
drawin' of yo' on, it jus' nigh broke my ol' brack heaht, it did. It
did, Marse Frank, fo' suah."

The young man could not reprimand the aged negro. He knew that all he
said came from the heart, a heart as utterly unselfish and devoted in
its love as human heart could be.

"Oh, pshaw, Neb!" he said soothingly. "Don't worry. Perhaps I did go
just a bit too far with Barbara--young folks, you know!--but that's all
over, now." Again he wondered most uncomfortably if this were really
true, again his mind made its comparisons between the bluegrass girl and
sweet Madge Brierly. "There's no danger that Woodlawn will have