He handed it to her and her heart sank. It was no deed, but a
complicated contract binding the tenant hand and foot to the landlord.
She sighed, he watching her eagerly.

"I'se getting old," he explained, "and I ain't got nobody to take care
of me. I can't work as I once could, and de overseers dey drives me too
hard. I wants a little home to die in."

Miss Smith's throat swelled. She couldn't tell him that he would never
get one at the present rate; she only said:

"I'll--look this up. You come again next Saturday."

Then sadly she watched the ragged old slave hobble away with his
cherished "papers." He greeted the young man at the gate and passed out,
while the latter walked briskly up to the door and knocked.

"Why, how do you do, Robert?"

"How do you do, Miss Smith?"

"Well, are you getting things in shape so as to enter school early next
year?"

Robert looked embarrassed.

"That's what I came to tell you, Miss Smith. Mr. Cresswell has offered
me forty acres of good land."