school early fer ter start de fire, w'at should he fin' but po' ole
Tenie, layin' on de flo', stiff, en col', en dead. Dere did n' 'pear ter
be nuffin pertickler de matter wid her,--she had des grieve' herse'f ter
def fer her Sandy. Mars Marrabo didn' shed no tears. He thought Tenie
wuz crazy, en dey wa'n't no tellin' w'at she mought do nex'; en dey ain'
much room in dis worl' fer crazy w'ite folks, let 'lone a crazy nigger.

"Hit wa'n't long atter dat befo' Mars Marrabo sol' a piece er his track
er lan' ter Mars Dugal' McAdoo,--_my_ ole marster,--en dat 's how de
ole school'ouse happen to be on yo' place. Wen de wah broke out, de
school stop', en de ole school'ouse be'n stannin' empty ever sence,--dat
is, 'cep'n' fer de ha'nts. En folks sez dat de ole school'ouse, er any
yuther house w'at got any er dat lumber in it w'at wuz sawed out'n de
tree w'at Sandy wuz turnt inter, is gwine ter be ha'nted tel de las'
piece er plank is rotted en crumble' inter dus'."

Annie had listened to this gruesome narrative with strained attention.

"What a system it was," she exclaimed, when Julius had finished, "under
which such things were possible!"

"What things?" I asked, in amazement. "Are you seriously considering the
possibility of a man's being turned into a tree?"

"Oh, no," she replied quickly, "not that;" and then she murmured
absently, and with a dim look in her fine eyes, "Poor Tenie!"

We ordered the lumber, and returned home. That night, after we had gone
to bed, and my wife had to all appearances been sound asleep for half an
hour, she startled me out of an incipient doze by exclaiming suddenly,--