The Littlest Rebel | Page 5

her arm, paused at the top of the
steps and regarded the angry pair with well-bred surprise.
"Why, Uncle Billy," she queried, "what is going on here? What is the

matter?"
"It's Jeems Henry; dat's what's de matter," said Uncle Billy, in defense
of his agitation. "He's runnin' 'way to de Yankees."
Mrs. Cary stopped short for a moment and then came slowly down the
steps.
"Oh, James," she said, unbelievingly. "Is this really true?"
Jeems Henry hung his head and dug at the gravel with his toe.
"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Cary, and the word held a world of painful
thought--of self-accusation, of hopeless regret, of sorrow for one who
could be so foolishly misguided. "I'm sorry not only for ourselves but
for you. You know, I promised Mammy before she died that I would
look after you--always."
Still Jeems Henry made no answer and old Uncle Billy saw fit to make
a disclosure.
"He's gwine up to Chickahominy." Then to Jeems Henry he added
something in low tones which made the young negro's eyes roll wildly
with fear. "Dey tells me dat der's hants and ghoses over dar. I hopes
dey'll git you."
"Stop that!" commanded Mrs. Cary. "You know very well, Uncle Billy,
there are no such things as ghosts."
"Nor'm I don't, Miss Hallie," responded Uncle Billy, sticking
tenaciously to his point, because he could plainly see Jeems Henry
wavering. "'Twas jes las' night I hear one--moanin' 'roun' de smoke
house. An' ef I ain't mighty fur wrong, she was smellin' arfter Jeems
Henry."
At this wild fabrication, the reason for which she nevertheless
appreciated, Mrs. Cary had hard work to hold back a smile, although
she promptly reassured the terrified Jeems Henry.

"There now--there--that will do. Nothing of that kind will trouble you,
James; you may take my word for it. If you are quite determined to go I
shall not try to keep you. But what have you in that bundle?"
"Hi! Hi! Dat's de way to talk!" interrupted Uncle Billy, excitedly
foreseeing means to prevent Jeems Henry's departure. "What you got in
yo' bundle?"
Jeems Henry lifted his anguished eyes and gazed truthfully at his
mistress.
"I ain't got nothin'--what don't b'long to me, Miss Hallie."
"I don't mean that," Mrs. Cary responded kindly. "But you have a long
tramp before you. Have you anything to eat?"
"Nor'm, I ain't," and Jeems Henry seemed disturbed.
"Then you'd better come around to the kitchen. We'll see what we can
find."
At this unheard-of generosity, Uncle Billy's eyes opened widely and he
exploded in remonstrance.
"Now, hol' on dar, Miss Hallie! Hol' on. You ain' got none too much fo'
yo'se'f, d'out stuffin' dis yere six-bit rat hole wid waffles an' milasses."
"_William!_" commanded his mistress.
"Yas'm," was the meek response, and Uncle Billy subsided into silence.
With a sigh, Mrs. Cary turned away toward the house. "Well, James,
are you coming?"
But Jeems Henry, completely abashed before this miracle of kindness
which he did not deserve, decided that it was time for him to be a man.
"Thank you, Miss Hallie," he gulped, "but f'um now on I reckon I
gwine take keer of myse'f."

Mrs. Cary, pausing on the bottom step, raised her eyes heavenward in a
short prayer that children such as these might somehow be protected
from themselves.
"Well, James," she said, when she saw there was nothing more to be
done. "I hope you'll be happy and contented. If you are not--come back
to us. Perhaps, when the war is over, you'll find things a little
more--comfortable. Good-by, James," and she held out her hand.
But this last touch of gentleness was too much for the young mulatto.
Although he made an obedient step forward, his feelings overcame him
and with an audible snuffle and his hand over his eyes he
retreated--then turned his back and plunged through the hedge.
Mrs. Cary sank down on the step and looked as if she, too, would like
to cry.
Manfully, Uncle Billy came to her rescue. "Now don't you care, Miss
Hallie. He wan' no 'count for plowin' no how."
"Oh, it isn't that, Uncle Billy," Mrs. Cary replied with a low cry of
regret. "It isn't the actual loss of help, tho' we need it, goodness knows.
But it makes me sad to see them leaving, one by one. They are such
children and so helpless--without a master hand."
"Yas'm," agreed Uncle Billy readily. "An' de marster's han' ought to
have a hick'ry stick in it fer dat nigger. Yas, bless Gawd. But you got
_me_, Miss Hallie," he announced proudly. "I ain't runned away to de
blue-bellies yet."
"No, you dear old thing," Mrs. Cary cried with laughing relief, and her
hand rested on his shoulder in a gentle caress. "I'd as soon