and, tucking it
lovingly under his chin, gave himself up to his favorite pastime,
while Sammy moved busily about the cabin, putting things right for
the night.

When her evening tasks were finished, the girl came and stood
before her father. At once the music ceased and the violin was
laid carefully aside. Sammy seated herself on her father's knee.

"Law', child, but you're sure growin' up," said Jim, with a mock
groan at her weight.

"Yes, Daddy, I reckon I'm about growed; I'll be nineteen come
Christmas."

"O shucks!" ejaculated the man. "It wasn't more'n last week that
you was washin' doll clothes, down by the spring."

The young woman laughed. "I didn't wash no doll clothes last
week," she said. Then her voice changed, and that wide,
questioning look, the look that made one think so of her father,
came into her eyes. "There's something I want to ask you, Daddy
Jim. You--you know--Ollie's goin' away, an'--an'--an' I was
thinkin' about it all day yesterday, an', Daddy, why ain't we got
no folks?"

Mr. Lane stirred uneasily. Sammy continued, "There's the
Matthews's, they've got kin back in Illinois; Mandy Ford's got
uncles and aunts over on Lang Creek; Jed Holland's got a grandad
and mam, and even Preachin' Bill talks about a pack o' kin folks
over in Arkansaw. Why ain't we got no folks, Daddy?"

The man gazed long and thoughtfully at the fresh young face of his
child; and the black eyes looked into the brown eyes keenly, as he
answered her question with another question, "Do you reckon you
love him right smart, honey? Are you sure, dead sure you ain't
thinkin' of what he's got 'stead of what he is? I know it'll be
mighty nice for you to be one of the fine folks and they're big
reasons why you ought, but it's goin' to take a mighty good man to
match you--a mighty good man. And it's the man you've got to live
with, not his money."

"Ollie's good, Daddy," she returned in a low voice, her eyes fixed
upon the floor.

"I know, I know," replied Jim. "He wouldn't do nobody no harm;
he's good enough that way, and I ain't a faultin' him. But you
ought to have a MAN, a sure enough good man."

"But tell me, Daddy, why ain't we got no folks?"

The faintest glimmer of a smile came into the dark face; "You're
sure growed up, girl; you're sure growed up, girl; you sure are.
An' I reckon you might as well know." Then he told her.

CHAPTER IX.

SAMMY LANE'S FOLKS.

It began on a big southern plantation,