a; but dat sutney
fotch 'em, an' win de de-bate, 'case dey jass natchully lay back an'
roah, dey did, Missy; dey laff an' stomp an' holler tell you could a
hearn 'em a mild away. An' honey, yo' pa'd a millyum times druther Mist'
Vanrevel'd a kilt him dan tuhn de laff on him. He'd shoot a man, honey,
ef he jass s'picion him to grin out de cornder his eye at him; an' to
stan' up dah wid de whole county fa'r roahin' at him--it's de God's
mussy be did'n have no ahms wid him, dat night! Ole Mist' Chen'eth
done brung him home, an' yo' pa reach out an' kick me squah' out'n' de
liberry winder soon's he ketch sight er me!" The old man's gravity gave
way to his enjoyment of the recollection, and he threw back his head
to laugh. "He sho' did, honey! Uhuh! Ho, ho, ho! He sho' did, honey, he
sho' did!"

Nevertheless, as he lifted the tray again and crossed the room to go,
his solemnity returned. "Missy," he said earnestly, "ef dat young gelmun
fall in love wid you, w'ich I knows he will ef he ketch sight er you,
lemme say dis, an' please fo' to ba'h in mine: better have nuttin' do
wid him fo' he own sake; an' 'bove all, keep him fur sway f'um dese
p'emises. Don' let him come in a mild er dis house."

"Nelson, was that all the quarrel between them?"

"Blessed Mussy! ain' dat 'nough? Ef dey's any mo' I ain' hearn what dat
part were," he answered quickly, but with a dogged tightening of the
lips which convinced Miss Betty that he knew very well.

"Nelson, what was the rest of it?"

"Please, Missy, I got pack yo' pa trunk; an' it time, long ago, fer me
to be at my wu'k." He was half out of the door.

"What was the rest of it?" she repeated quietly.

"Now, honey," he returned with a deprecatory shake of his head, "I got
my own wu'k 'tend to; an' I ain't nevah ax nobody what 'twas, an' I
ain't goin' ax 'em. An' lemme jass beg you f oiler de ole man's advice:
you do de same, 'case nobody ain't goin' tell you. All I know is dat it
come later and were somep'n 'bout dat riprarin Crailey Gray. Yo' pa he
sent a channelge to Mist' Vanrevel, an' Mist' Vanrevel 'fuse to fight
him 'cause he say he don' b'lieve shootin' yo' pa goin' do yo' pa any
good, an' he still got hope mekkin' good citizen outer him. Dat brung de
laff on yo' pa ag'in; an' he 'clare to God ef he ketch Vanrevel on any
groun' er hisn he shoot him like a mad dog. 'Pon my livin' soul he mean
dem wuds, Missy! Dey had hard 'nough time las' night keepin' him fum
teahin' dat man