rway. Dey was on'y Mis' Judith en
Miss Shirley en de gal Em'line at Rosewood, 'case Ranston de butlah en
de yuddahs gone ter disstracted meetin' down ter de Cullud Mefodis'
Chu'ch. Well, suh, dey wa'nt no time ter sen' fo' men. Whut yo' reck'n
Miss Shirley do? She ain' afeahd o' nuffin on dis yerf, en she on'y
sebenteen yeah ol' den, too. She don' tell Mis' Judith--no, _suh!_ She
run out ter de stable en saddle huh hoss, en she gallop up dat road ter
Hell's-Half-Acre lak er shot outen er shovel."

Valiant brought his hands together sharply. "Yes, yes," he said. "And
then?"

"When she come ter Greef King's cabin, he done foun' de laddah, en one
er he foots was on de rung. He had er ax in he han'. De po' li'l gal was
peepin' down thoo' de cracks o' de flo', en prayin' de bestes' she know
how. She say arterwuhds dat she reck'n de Good Lawd sen' er angel, fo'
Miss Shirley were all in white--she didn' stop ter change huh close. She
didn' say nuffin, Miss Shirley didn'. She on'y lay huh han' on Greef
King's ahm, en he look at huh face, en he drop he ax en go. Den she
clumb de laddah en fotch de chile down in huh ahms en take huh on de
hoss en come back. Dat de way et happen, suh."

"And Rickey was that little child!"

"Yas, suh, she sho' was. In de mawnin' er posse done ride up ter
Hell's-Half-Acre en take Greef King in. De majah he argyfy de case fo'
de State, en when he done git thoo', dey mos' put de tow eroun' King's
nek in de co'ot room. He done got th'ee yeah, en et mos' broke de
majah's ha'at dat dey couldn' give him no mo'. He wuz cert'n'y er bad
aig, dat Greef wuz. Dey say he done sw'ah he gwineter do up de majah
when he git out. De po' 'ooman she stay sick dah at Rosewood all wintah,
but she git no bettah moughty fas', en in de spring she up en die. Den
Miss Shirley she put li'l Rickey at Miss Mattie Sue's, en she pay fo'
huh keep eber sence outer huh own money. Dat whut she done, suh."

Such was the story which Uncle Jefferson told, standing in the doorway.
When his shuffling step had retreated, Valiant went to the table and
picked up a slim tooled volume that lay there. It was the _Lucile_ he
had found in the hall the night of his arrival. He opened it to a page
where, pressed and wrinkled but still retaining its bright red pigment,
lay what had been a rose.

He stood looking at it abstractedly, his nostrils widening to its
crushed spicy scent, then closed it and slipped it into his pocket.

CHAPTER