That's not Mr. Dan, I said, you won't catch Mr. Dan out in the pitch
darkness with a lantern and ten miles from home."
"I really do not want to keep you," he broke in shortly, all the
good-humour gone from his voice.
"Thar ain't nothin' to do right now," she answered with a searching look
into his face. "I was jest waitin' to bring you some mo' cakes." She went
out and came in presently with a fresh plateful. "I remember jest as well
the first time you ever took breakfast here," she said. "You wa'n't more'n
twelve, I don't reckon, an' the Major brought you by in the coach, with Big
Abel driving. The Major didn't like the molasses we gave him, and he pushed
the pitcher away and said it wasn't fit for pigs; and then you looked about
real peart and spoke up, 'It's good molasses, grandpa, I like it.' Sakes
alive, it seems jest like yestiddy. I don't reckon the Major is comin' by
to-day, is he?"
He pushed his plate away and rose hurriedly, then, without replying, he
brushed past her, and went out upon the porch.
There he found Jack Hicks, and forced himself squarely into a discussion of
his altered fortunes. "I may as well tell you, Jack," he said, with a touch
of arrogance, "that I'm turned out upon the world, at last, and I've got to
make a living. I've left Chericoke for good, and as I've got to stay here
until I find a place to go, there's no use making a secret of it."
The pipe dropped from Jack's mouth, and he stared back in astonishment.
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