one negro, commenting on Little Lizay's
offence.

"An' her sweet'art!" said another.

"An' her 'tendin' like her lubbed 'im!"

"An' Als'on can't pick cotton fas', nohow, kase he ain't use ter
cotton--neber see'd none till he come yere--an' her know'd he'd git a
cowhidin'. It's meaner'n boneset tea," said Edny Ann.

"A heap meaner," assented Cat. "Sich puffawmance's wusser'n stealin' acawns
frum a blin' hog."

Over and over Little Lizay said, "I never stole Als'on's cotton;" and then
she would make her explanation, as she had made it to Edny Ann and Alston.
Often she was tempted to tell the whole story of how she had been all along
helping Alston at her own cost, but many motives restrained her. She
dreaded the jeers and jests to which the story would subject her, and
everything was to be feared from Mr. Buck's retaliation should he learn
that he had been tricked. Besides, she wished, if possible, to go on
helping Alston. She doubted, too, if he would receive it well that she had
been helping him. Might he not gravely resent it that through her action
such a pitiable part in the drama had been forced on him? Then there was
something sweet to Little Lizay in suffering all alone for Alston--in
having this secret unshared: she respected herself more that she did not
risk everything to vindicate herself, for this she could do: the steelyard
to-morrow would demonstrate the truth of her story.

But the morrow came, and she went out to the field, her story untold, a
marked woman. Yet she was not comfortless. The something that Alston had
told her the previous day was making her heart sing. This is what he told
her: "While yer wus stealin' from me, Lizay, I wus he'pin' yer. I put a
ha'f er sack in yer baskit ter-day, an' a ha'f er sack yistiddy--kase I
liked yer, Lizay."

She took her rows beside Alston's as usual, determined to watch for a
chance to help him. But when he moved away from her and took another row,
Lizay knew that the time had come. She couldn't stand it to have him strain
and tug and bend to his work as no other hand in the field did, only to be
disappointed at night. She could never bear it that he should be flogged
after all she had done to save him from the shame. She could never live
through it--the cowhiding of her hero by the detested overseer. Yes, the
time had come: she must tell Alston.

She went over to where he had begun a new row. "Yer don't b'lieve the tale
I tole yistiddy, Als'on: yer's fea