y; this war done crippled all the folks in money; that why
Mahs Jean Larue sell out an' go ovah in Mexico; that why Loren'wood up
fo' sale to strangers; that why Judge Clarkson done sell out his share
in cotton plantation up the river; ain't _nobody_ got hundreds these
days, an' lawyers won't take promises. I done paid eighteen dollars on
Rosa when she died, but I ain't got no writin'," he went on,
miserably, "that was to go on Zekal, an' I have 'nigh onto nine
dollars 'sides that. I gwine take it ovah to Mahs Larue nex' week,
sure, an' now--an'--now--"

His words were smothered in a sigh; what use were words, any
way? Judithe felt that Margeret's eyes were on her face as she
listened--wistful, questioning eyes! Would the words be of no use?

"The Jean Larue estate," she said, meditatively, seating herself at
the table and picking up a pen, "and your wife was named Rosa?"

"Yes'm." He was staring at her as a man drowning might stare at a spar
drifting his way on a chance wave; there was but the shadow of a hope
in his face as he watched with parted lips the hand with the pen--and
back of the shadow what substance!

"And she is dead--how long?"

"A yeah gone now."

"And Mr. Larue asks how much for her child?"

"Hundred 'n' fifty dollar--this what he _said_, but, God knows,
lawyers got hold o' things now, maybe even more 'n that now, an'
anyway--"

His words sounded vague and confused in his own ears, for she was
writing, and did not appear to hear.

"Where is this Larue place?" she asked, glancing up. "I heard of a
Jean Larue plantation across in Georgia--is this it?"

"No'm," and he turned an eager look of hope towards Margeret at this
pointed questioning, but her expression was unchanged; she only looked
at the strange lady who questioned and showed sympathy.

"No, mist'ess, this Mahs Jean Larue did stay on they Georgy plantation
till five yeah back, then they move ovah to Callina again; that how I
come to meet up with Rosa. Larue place down river towards Beaufort--a
whole day's walken'."

"What did you say this child was named?" she asked, without ceasing
the movement of the pen over the white paper.

"His name Ezekal, but we ain't nevah call him anything but Zekal--he's
so little yet."

"And when is this sale to be?"

Pluto looked helplessly towards Margeret.

"Tomorrow week, Madame Caron," she said, speaking for the first time,
though her steady gaze had almost made Judithe nervous. It had a
pe