ly whittling a piece of wood into the
shape of a boat, labor more to his taste, evidently, than that which he
had abandoned at the request of Jane. Allusion to this preference for
a lighter task was made by Genesis, who was erecting a trellis on the
border of the little garden.

"Pappy whittle all day," he chuckled. "Whittle all night, too! Pappy, I
thought you 'uz goin' to git 'at long bed all spade' up fer me by noon.
Ain't 'at what you tole me?"

"You let him alone, Genesis," said Jane, who sat by the old man's side,
deeply fascinated. "There's goin' to be a great deal of rain in the next
few days maybe, an' I haf to have this boat ready."

The aged darky lifted his streaky and diminished eyes to the burnished
sky, and laughed. "Rain come some day, anyways," he said. "We git de
boat ready 'fo' she fall, dat sho." His glance wandered to William and
rested upon him with feeble curiosity. "Dat ain' yo' pappy, is it?" he
asked Jane.

"I should say it isn't!" she exclaimed. "It's Willie. He was only
seventeen about two or three months ago, Mr. Genesis." This was not the
old man's name, but Jane had evolved it, inspired by respect for one so
aged and so kind about whittling. He was the father of Genesis, and the
latter, neither to her knowledge nor to her imagination, possessed a
surname.

"I got cat'rack in my lef' eye," said Mr. Genesis, "an' de right one,
she kine o' tricksy, too. Tell black man f'um white man, little f'um
big."

"I'd hate it if he was papa," said Jane, confidentially. "He's always
cross about somep'm, because he's in love." She approached her mouth to
her whittling friend's ear and continued in a whisper: "He's in love of
Miss Pratt. She's out walkin' with Joe Bullitt. I was in the front yard
with Willie, an' we saw 'em go by. He's mad."

William did not hear her. Moodily, he had discovered that there was
something amiss with the buckle of his belt, and, having ungirded
himself, he was biting the metal tongue of the buckle in order
to straighten it. This fell under the observation of Genesis, who
remonstrated.

"You break you' teef on 'at buckle," he said.

"No, I won't, either," William returned, crossly.

"Ain' my teef," said Genesis. "Break 'em, you want to!"

The attention of Mr. Genesis did not seem to be attracted to the
speakers; he continued his whittling in a craftsman-like manner, which
brought praise from Jane.

"You can see to whittle, Mr. Genesis," she said. "You whittle be