e, Ross," pleaded the Jilton boy. "I can't stay
here--and I can't go down."

The tone was hysterical. The boy with freckles took his companion by
the arm without another word and marched him down the stairs. "We may
get a chance yet to call on Champe all by herself out on the porch or
in the arbor before she goes to school," he suggested, by way of
putting some spine into the black-eyed boy.

An emphatic bell rang when they were half-way down the stairs.
Clutching their hats, they slunk into the dining-room. Even Mr.
Claiborne seemed to notice something unusual in their bearing as they
settled into the chairs assigned to them, and asked them kindly if
they had slept well.

It was plain that Aunt Missouri had been posting him as to her
understanding of the intentions of these young men. The state of
affairs gave an electric hilarity to the atmosphere. Babe travelled
from the sideboard to the table, trembling like chocolate pudding.
Cady insisted on bringing in the cakes herself, and grinned as she
whisked her starched blue skirts in and out of the dining-room. A
dimple even showed itself at the corners of pretty Alicia's prim
little mouth. Champe giggled, till Ross heard Cady whisper:

"Now you got one dem snickerin' spells agin. You gwine bust yo' dress
buttons off in the back ef you don't mind."

As the spirits of those about them mounted, the hearts of the two
youths sank--if it was like this among the Claibornes, what would it
be at school and in the world at large when their failure to connect
intention with result became village talk? Ross bit fiercely upon an
unoffending batter-cake, and resolved to make a call single-handed
before he left the house.

They went out of the dining-room, their hats as ever pressed to their
breasts. With no volition of their own, their uncertain young legs
carried them to the porch. The Claiborne family and household followed
like small boys after a circus procession. When the two turned, at
bay, yet with nothing between them and liberty but a hypnotism of
their own suggestion, they saw the black faces of the servants peering
over the family shoulders.

Ross was the boy to have drawn courage from the desperation of their
case, and made some decent if not glorious ending. But at the
psychological moment there came around the corner of the house that
most contemptible figure known to the Southern plantation, a
shirt-boy--a creature who may be described, for the benefit of those