nd embittered it. Certain it is, he suddenly seemed to lose all
ambition and energy. Instead of making the brilliant lawyer his friends
expected, he had come down at last to be the keeper of the toll-gate on
a country turnpike.

Lying on his pillow in the dense shadow, John Jay looked out into the
white moonlight, and listened to the old story told all over again. But
this time there was added the history of Jintsey's boy, who seemed to
have been born with the ambition hot in his heart to win an education.
He had done it. There was a quiver of pride in Uncle Billy's voice as he
told how the boy had outstripped his young master in the long race; but
there was a loyal and tender undercurrent of excuse for the unfortunate
heir running through all his talk.

It had taken twenty years of struggle and work for the little black boy
to realize his hopes. He had grown to be a grave man of thirty-three
before it was accomplished. Now he had come home from a Northern college
with his diploma and his degree.

"He have fought a good fight," said Uncle Billy in conclusion, finishing
as usual with a scriptural quotation. "He have fought a good fight, and
he have finished his co'se, but"--here his voice sank almost to a
whisper--"he have come home to die."

A chill seemed to creep all over John Jay's warm little body. He raised
his head from the pillow to listen still more carefully.

"Yes, they say he got the gallopin' consumption while he was up Nawth,
shovellin' snow an' such work, an' studyin' nights in a room 'thout no
fiah. He took ole Mars's name an' he have brought honah upon it, but
what good is it goin' to do him? Tell me that. For when the leaves go in
the autumn time, then Jintsey's boy must go too."

"Where's he stayin' at now?" demanded Mammy sharply, although she drew
the corner of her apron across her eyes.

"He's down to Mars' Nat's at the toll-gate cottage. 'Peahs like it's the
natch'el place for him to be. Neithah of 'em's got anybody else, and
it's kind a like old times when they was chillun, play in' round the big
house togethah. I stopped in to see him yestiddy. The cup Mis' Alice
gave him was a-settin' on the mantel, an' Mars' Nat was stewin' up some
sawt of cough tonic for him. The white folks up Nawth must a thought a
heap of him. He'd just got a lettah from one of the college professahs
'quirin' bout his health. Mars' Nat read out what was on the back of it:
'Rev'und Gawge W. Chadwick, an' some lettahs