de shay. Noon, sharp," Jake replied.
"Thankee, Mas'r Mason, thankee. We couldn't bury Miss Dory without a
word of pra'r. I kin say de Lawd's, but I want somethin' about de
resurrection an' de life what I hearn in Virginny. An' now I mus' go
'long home. Ole Miss'll be wantin' me an' de chile."

"What child?" Mr. Mason asked, in some surprise.

Jake's face was a study as he hesitated a minute, winking to keep his
tears back before he said, "Sartin', thar's a chile. Why shouldn't thar
be, but fo' God it's all right. Miss Dory said so, an' Elder Covil
knows, only he's done gone Norf or somewhar. It's all right, an' you'll
know 'tis the minit you see Miss Dory's face--innocent as a baby's. Good
day to you."

He doffed his hat with a kind of grace one would hardly have expected,
and walked rapidly away, leaving the Rev. Mr. Mason to think over what
he had heard, and wonder that he didn't ask the name of the family he
was to visit. "Miss Dory, ole Miss, and Jake," were all he had to guide
him, but the last name was sufficient.

"Oh, yes," the landlord said, when questioned. "It's old Mrs. Harris and
her grand-daughter out in the palmetto clearing; they're Crackers. The
old woman is half demented, the whole family was queer, and the girl the
queerest of all--won't talk and keeps her mouth shut as to her marriage,
if there was one."

"Who was the man?" Mr. Mason asked, and the landlord replied, "Some
Northern cuss she met in Georgia where she was staying a spell with her
kin. A high blood, they say. Attracted by her pretty face, I suppose,
and then got tired of her, or was too proud to own up. I wasn't landlord
then, but I've heard about it. I think he was here once three or four
years ago. He came on the 'Hatty' and staid on her--the house was so
full. Didn't register, nor anything--nor tell his name to a livin' soul.
One or two ast him square, I b'lieve, but he either pretended not to
hear 'em, or got out of it somehow. Acted prouder than Lucifer. Walked
along the shore and in the woods, and went to the clearin'--some said
to buy that limb of a Mandy Ann, but more to see Miss Dory. All the time
he was on the boat he was so stiff and starched that nobody wanted to
tackle him, and that girl--I mean Miss Dory--has kept a close mouth
about him, and when her baby was born, and some of the old cats talked
she only said, 'It is all right, I'm a good girl,' and I b'lieve she
was. But that Northern cuss needs killin'. He sends her