lly to rob me of my cigars, and her of her small
savings"--pursued Mr. Graeme, calmly.

"Suh? Nor, suh, I has not done dat I will take my oath to it on the word
of Almighty God."

The veneer of his fine speech had all been dropped, and the Rev. Johnson
was talking naturally enough now.

"What did you do with that money you took from her?"

"What did I do wid--? What money?"

Mr. Graeme showed impatience for the first time.

"The four hundred and fifty-five dollars you got from her. Was there
more than that?"

At this point Mam' Lyddy opened the door and came in. She looked
somewhat mystified and rather disturbed, but she said nothing. She only
took her stand, and with arms folded waited silent and observant.

The negro saw that Mr. Graeme knew of the fact and answered promptly.

"Oh! You are mistaken, sir. I have taken no money of her. You can ax
her. She had a sum of money which I as a favor to her invested for her.
You can ask the sister there. I suppose you refer to that!"

"Invested! In what?"

"Ah--ur--in--ur--the Afro-American Sister's Loan and Trust Association.
I have promised to invest it in that for her."

He stammered a good deal at the start, but was glib enough when he
brought out the name. "Didn't I, sister!"

"Yes, sir." The old woman was manifestly impressed. The preacher's
cunning face brightened.

"You see what she says?"

"With its chief office at the Race-course out here," said Graeme, with a
toss of his head. "Look here, I want you to get that money."

The negro shot a glance at Mam' Lyddy and decided that she would stand
by him. He suddenly stiffened up and resumed his affected manner.

"Well, sir, I do not know by what right you interfere with my
affairs--or this lady's."

"You don 't? Well, that's what I am going to show you now. My right is
that she is a member of my family, whom I am going to protect from just
such scoundrels and thieves as you, Amos Brown."

The preacher received the name like a blow.

At the words the old mammy jumped as if she were shot. She leaned
forward, moving up slowly.

"What's dat?--'Amos _Brown_'? What's dat you said, Marse Cabell? 'Amos
_Brown_'?"

Mr. Graeme nodded. "Yes. This is Amos Brown, 'a friend of Caesar's.'"

"Indeed, I ain 't suh. I'm de Reverend Amos Johnson--" began the
preacher, but his looks belied him. Mammy Lyddy took in the truth, and
the next second the storm broke.

"'Amos Brown' you is? I might 'a' knowd it! You thi