git dis yer close bresh ef I ain' brung hit
ter you? Whar de close you got? Whar de close bresh?"

"You're a fool, Big Abel," retorted Dan. "Go back where you belong and
don't hang about me any more. I'm a beggar, I tell you, and I'm likely to
be a beggar at the judgment day."

"Whar de close bresh?" repeated Big Abel, scornfully.

"What would Saphiry say, I'd like to know?" went on Dan. "It isn't fair to
Saphiry to run off this way."

"Don' you bodder 'bout Saphiry," responded Big Abel. "I'se done loss my
tase fur Saphiry, young Marster."

"I tell you you're a fool," snapped out Dan, sharply.

"De Lawd he knows," piously rejoined Big Abel, and he added: "Dar ain' no
use a-rumpasin' case hyer I is en hyer I'se gwine ter stay. Whar you run,
dar I'se gwine ter run right atter, so 'tain' no use a-rumpasin'. Hit's a
pity dese yer ain' nuttin' but summer close."

Dan looked at him a moment in silence, then he put out his hand and slapped
him upon the shoulder.

"You're a fool--God bless you," he said.

"Go 'way f'om yer, young Marster," responded the negro, in a high
good-humour. "Dar's a speck er dut right on yo' shut."

"Then give me another," cried Dan, gayly, and threw off his coat.

When he went down stairs, carefully brushed, a half-hour afterward, the
world had grown suddenly to wear a more cheerful aspect. He greeted Mrs.
Hicks with his careless good-humour, and spoke pleasantly to the dirty
white-haired children that streamed through the dining room.

"Yes, I'll take my breakfast now, if you please," he said as he sat down at
one end of the long, oilcloth-covered table. Mrs. Hicks brought him his
coffee and cakes, and then stood, with her hands upon a chair back, and
watched him with a frank delight in his well-dressed comely figure.

"You do favour the Major, Mr. Dan," she suddenly remarked.

He started impatiently. "Oh, the Lightfoots are all alike, you know," he
responded. "We are fond of saying that a strain of Lightfoot blood is good
for two centuries of intermixing." Then, as he looked up at her faded
wrapper and twisted curl papers, he flinched and turned away as if her
ugliness afflicted his eyes. "Do not let me keep you," he added hastily.

But the woman stooped to shake a child that was tugging at her dress, and
talked on in her drawling voice, while a greedy interest gave life to her
worn and sallow face. "How long do you think of stayin'?" she asked
curiously, "and do you often take a not