oin' my dooty, Mass Louis."

"Pshaw, man! Take a tip, can't you?"

Pompey shook his head. "I don't smoke, Mass Louis."

"Don't smoke!" ejaculated Louis. "You don't here, I know, because the
Judge is afraid of fire, but you'll never make me believe that you don't
spend your evenings over the fire with your pipe. You darkeys are as
fond of one as the other."

"You's mistaken, Mass Louis," said Pompey quietly.

"'Pon my word! And why don't you smoke, Pomp? You don't know what you're
missing. It is the greatest comfort on earth."

"'Specs I don't need sech poor comfort, Mass Louis. I takes my comfort
wid de Lord."

Pompey's voice was low and sweet. Evadne felt her heart glow.

"But come now, Pomp," persisted Louis, "that's all nonsense. You must
have some reason for not smoking. Everybody does. Come, I insist on your
telling me."

Pompey was silent for a moment. "'The pure in heart shall see God,'" he
said slowly. "I 'low, Mass Louis, de King's chillen's got ter be pure in
body too."'

"You insolent scoundrel! How dare you?" and Louis dashed the glowing end
of his cigar in the negro's face.

For a moment Pompey stood absolutely still,--the cigar which had left
its mark upon his cheek lying smouldering at his feet,--then he turned
quietly and walked away.

Louis strode out of the coach-house. Evadne followed him, her eyes
blazing. "You are a coward!" she cried passionately. "You would not have
dared to do that to a man who could hit you back. You forced him to tell
you and then struck him for doing it! If this is your culture and
refinement, I despise it! I am going to be a Christian, like Pompey.
That is grand!"

"Well done, coz!" and Louis affected a laugh. "There's not much of the
'meek and lowly' in evidence just now at any rate."

He looked after her as she walked away, her indignant tones still
lingered in his ears. "By Jove! there's something to her though she is
so quiet! I must cultivate the child."

Seen through Evadne's clear eyes his action looked despicable and his
better nature suggested an apology, but he swept the suggestion aside
with a muttered "Pshaw! he's only a nigger," and turned carelessly on
his heel.

"You are Dyce!" cried Evadne impulsively when she reached the cottage in
whose open doorway a pleasant-faced colored woman was standing. "Pompey
has told me about you. I think your husband is one of the grandest men I
know."

"Thank you, Missy. Walk right in, I'se proper glad ter