ld man waked with a start and began talking
to him.

"I been wushin' you'd weck up an' talk, gran'dad," he said, "caze I
wants ter ax yer what's all dis here dey say 'bout Christmas? When I was
comin' 'long to-day I stopped in a big chu'ch, an' dey was a
preacher-man standin' up wid a white night-gown on, an' he say dis
here's our Lord's birfday. I heerd 'im say it myse'f. Is dat so?"

"Co'se it is, Juke. Huccome you ax me sech ignunt questioms? Gimme dat
Bible, boy, an' lemme read you some 'ligion."

Mose had been a sort of lay-preacher in his day, and really could read a
little, spelling or stumbling over the long words. Taking the book
reverently, he leaned forward until the shaft of sunlight fell upon the
open page, when with halting speech he read to the little boy, who
listened with open-mouthed attention, the story of the birth at
Bethlehem.

"An' look heah, Juke, my boy," he said, finally, closing the book,
"hit's been on my min' all day ter tell yer I ain't gwine fishin' no mo'
tell de high-water come back--you heah? 'Caze yer know somebody's
chickens _mought_ come an' pick up de bait, an' I'd be bleeged ter kill
'em ter save 'em, an' we ain' gwine do dat no mo', me an' you. You heah,
Juke?"

Duke rolled his eyes around and looked pretty serious. "Yas, sir, I
heah," he said.

"An' me an' you, we done made dis bargain on de Lord's birfday--yer
heah, boy?--wid Gord's sunshine kiverin' us all over, an' my han' layin'
on de page. Heah, lay yo' little han' on top o' mine, Juke, an' promise
me you gwine be a _square man_, so he'p yer. Dat's it. Say it out loud,
an' yo' ole gran'dad he done said it, too. Wrop up dem fishin'-lines
now, an' th'ow 'em up on de rafters. Now come set down heah, an' lemme
tell yer 'bout Christmas on de ole plantation. Look out how you pop dat
whup 'crost my laig! Dat's a reg'lar horse-fly killer, wid a coal of
fire on 'er tip." Duke laughed.

"Now han' me a live coal fur my pipe. Dis here terbacca you brung me,
hit smokes sweet as sugar, boy. Set down, now, close by me--so."

Duke never tired of his grandfather's reminiscences, and he crept up
close to the old man's knee as the story began.

"When de big plantation-bell used ter ring on Christmas mornin', all de
darkies had to march up ter de great house fur dey Christmas-gif's; an'
us what worked _at_ de house, we had ter stan' in front o' de fiel'
han's. An' after ole marster axed a blessin', an' de string-ban' play,
an' we al