Yes, that's about how 'tis, suh."
Dan finished the stick and handed it to the child. "I tell you what, Jack,"
he said suddenly, "I want Tom Hyden's place, and I'm going to drive that
stage over to Hopeville this afternoon. Phil Banks runs it, doesn't
he?--well, I know him." He rose and stood humorously looking out upon the
coach. "There's no time like the present," he added, "so I begin work
to-day."
Jack Hicks silently stared up at him for a moment; then he coughed and
exclaimed hoarsely:--
"The jedgment ain't fur off," but Dan laughed the prophecy aside and went
upstairs to write to Betty.
"I've got a job, Big Abel," he began, going into his room, where the negro
was pressing a pair of trousers with a flatiron, "and what's more it will
keep me till I get another."
Big Abel gloomily shook his head. "We all 'ud des better go 'long home ter
Ole Miss," he returned, for he was in no mood for compromises. "Caze I ain'
use ter de po' w'ite trash en dey ain' use ter me."
"Go if you want to," retorted Dan, sternly, "but you go alone," and the
negro, protesting under his breath, laid the clothes away and went down to
his breakfast.
Dan sat down by the window and wrote a letter to Betty which he never sent.
When he thought of her now it was as if half the world instead of ten miles
lay between them; and quickly as he would have resented the hint of it from
Jack Hicks, to himself he admitted that he was fast sinking where Betty
could not follow him.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233