u know."

"Yes, if that fetch-taked nigger ever gits the hoss hitched up,"
Margaret spoke up.

Jasper snatched up his hat. "Oh, he'd hitch up a hoss to the fou'th of
July jest about in time to drive up to the front door of Christmas. I'll
go and see about it myse'f. Slowest nigger I ever seed," and muttering
he went out. Old mammy, still looking at the city woman's rings, began
softly to croon: "I neber seed er po' ole nigger dat didn't like rings.
I had er whole lot o' 'em once, but da turned green, an' da'd pizen me
ef I teched 'em wid my mouf. But one time Mars Jasper gib me one dat
didn't turn green, an' I lost it. You allus loses de best, you know.
Honey, Mars Jasper is allus doin' suthin' fur me. I nussed him w'en he
wuz er chile an' he dun paid me back mo' den er hunnud times; an' w'en I
got ole an' wuz down wid de rheumatiz, an' couldn't sleep in de night
w'en de lonesome cow er lowin' on de hill-side, he sot up wid me an'
spell out de words o' de Lawd, fur he kain't read right quick. He
couldn't been mo' tender wid his mudder, an' I gwine ter tell de Lawd
w'en I goes home, an' it won't be long--no'm it won't. An' on de wall by
my bed I dun made chalk marks o' de things I gwine tell de Lawd, an' dar
ain't hardly no mo' room fur new marks, da all been so good ter me; but
I gwine make one fur you, honey, caze you looked kind at me. Yas'm, I
is. But I must be gwine. Lawd bless you all; an' you too, strange lady."
And as this old creature walked out she still muttered blessings upon
them; this endeared old link, tenderly binding some of us to one of the
sweetest memories of the past. She is passing over the threshold into
the "big house" of eternity, this mother of love and charity, who sang
the little children to sleep, whose ebon fingers bound the wounds of
youth. She knew enough of God to be all love--of Christ to forgive all
wrongs.

"The wagon's ready," Jasper called, and Mrs. Mayfield turned to Jim.
"Won't you come too?"

He scrambled up, as if stung into action, grabbed his hat, went
boldly close to her and said: "If I thought yo' wish was in yo'
invitation, Satan couldn't hold me back, and the Lord wouldn't."

"What a strange compliment."

"Ma'm, I don't know how to speak compliments."

"Come on, please."

CHAPTER IV.

AT THE POST OFFICE.

Beneath the blooming boughs overhanging the mountain road the old
carryall was slowly pulled along by a horse into whose joints had crept
the dreamy