ole lot she'll feel like dying for you _then_. Servants have eyes
and ears and hearts. There's servants in that house that know how
things used to be, who see how things are now, since you came
philandering around. And do you know what those servants think of her,
and what I think of her for the way she's treated him? Oh, they like
her well enough because she's gentle and easy-going, and good-tempered
and easy to get on with; but there isn't a servant in that house would
change characters with her. We think she's the kind of woman that's
beneath contempt--lazy, selfish, spendthrift--always pampering number
one--and going about the world looking like a sad, bruised lily. Do
you think the servants in that house don't know all about your goings
and comings, and the life you've led, the harm you've done and didn't
have to do, the good you might have done, and didn't?"

"But, Hilda----"

She motioned me to be silent. Her ears, sharper than mine, or more
attentive, had heard voices. They were negro voices, a man's and a
woman's. We drew deeper into the shadow of the cedar.

"So you got no mo' use for me, nigger?" The man's voice rumbled softly
and threatened like distant thunder. "Yo' got to have yo' fling?"

Then the woman's voice, shrill but subdued: "I don' love you no mo',
Frank."

"You got er nice home 'n nice lil' babies, 'n you goin' to leave 'em
fo' a yaller man--is you?"

They were opposite us now, walking very slowly and occasionally
lurching against each other.

"Yo' ain't goin' ter make trouble, Frank?"

"I ain't goin' ter give you up, Lily."

"You ain't? How you goin' ter fix fo' ter keep me?"

They came to a halt and faced each other, the woman defensive and
defiant, the man somber, quiet, with a certain savage dignity and
slowly smoldering like an inactive volcano. You couldn't see their
features, only a white flashing of eyes and teeth in such light as
there was.

"You's one er dese new women," said the man softly. "You's got ter be
boss 'n have yo' own way."

He stood for some moments looking down into her face, appraising as it
were her flightiness, and meditating justice. Then he struck her
quietly, swiftly and hard, so that her half-open mouth closed with a
sharp snap.

She was not senseless, but she made no effort to rise. He stood over
her, smoldering. Then, his voice suddenly soft and tender, "I reckon I
is got ter learn you," he said, and he picked her up in his arms a