slaves, and his old black mammy stood on the
block with him in her arms while they were auctioning her off. Well,
sir, Louise cried about that fit to kill herself. We told her how long
ago it had happened, and impressed on her the fact that the old woman
was soon bought back, but she kept on crying over the cruelty of the
thing. Yes, sir. Well, I turn off here. Good night."

In the dark the Major walked about the yard mournfully calling Tom. A
negro woman said that she had seen him going down the road, and the old
gentleman returned to the porch and sat down. In the sitting room a lamp
was burning, and a patch of light fell about his chair. He wanted to
tell the young man of the trouble that had fallen upon the household,
and yet he dreaded to hear his footstep. Tom was so proud of his sister,
had always looked up to her, had regarded her whims as an intellectual
diversion; and now what a disappointment. How sadly would his heart be
wrung. From a distant room came the pling-plang of a banjo.

"There's Tom, Margaret. Will you please tell him to come here? I don't
want to see him in the light."

Mrs. Cranceford hastened to obey, and the Major sat listening. He pushed
his chair back out of the patch of light. The banjo hushed its twanging,
and then he heard Tom coming. The young man stepped out upon the porch.
His mother halted in the doorway.

"Tom," said the Major, "I have a desperate piece of news, and I wish I
could break it to you gently, but there is no way to lead up to it. Your
sister has married Carl Pennington."

"Yes, so Jim Taylor told me. Met him in the road a while ago. I didn't
know that there was anything of the sort on hand. Must have kept it
mighty quiet. I suppose----"

"What, you suppose! What the deuce can you suppose! Stand there
supposing when I tell you that she has married a dying man." The old
gentleman flounced in his chair. "She has thrown herself away and I tell
you of it and you want to suppose. What's the matter with you? Have you
lost all your pride and your sense? She has married a dying man, I tell
you."

The young fellow began awkwardly to twist himself about. He looked at
his mother, standing in the door with the light pouring about her, but
her eyes were turned from him, gazing far away into the deepening
night. "I know they might think he's dying," he said, "but they might be
mistaken. Sometimes they believe a man's dying and he keeps on living.
Wash Sanders----"

"Go back t