"O Dad," he cried, "didn't you bring him?"

"Bring him? I should say I did. Here, step out, young man."

A chubby face above a blouse, a short kilt and fat legs, appeared from
the shadows of the cab. Grave eyes passed fearlessly over the group on
the steps until they settled on the broad black face of Mammy.

"Bad nigger!"

Mrs. Leighton gasped and arrested herself in the very movement of
welcome. Mammy's genial face assumed a terrible scowl, her white eyes
bulged, and her vast arms went suddenly akimbo.

"Wha' 's that yo' say, yo' young Marster?" she thundered.

"Go--go--_good_ nigger," stuttered the chubby face and smiled. With that
he was swept from the cab into Mrs. Leighton's arms, and Mammy, grinning
from ear to ear, caught him by one fat leg and demanded in soft negro
tones:

"Wha' fo' you call yo' mammy 'bad niggah,' young Marster? Ho! ho!
'Go--go--_good_ niggah!' Did yo' hea' him, Mis' Ann?"

Shenton and Natalie jumped up and down, with, cries of "Please, Mother,"
and "Muvver, oh, _please!_" Mrs. Leighton set Lewis on his feet between
them. Shenton held out his hand. "How d' ye."

"How do do," replied Lewis, gravely. Natalie was plucking at his arm. He