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 think of
the skies falling. It is just such faithful friends as you who help me
to fight the best."

"Um?" said Uncle Billy promptly, not quite understanding.

"I mean a woman's battles, Uncle Billy--the _waiting_ battles--that we
fight alone." Mrs. Gary rose to her feet and turned sadly away.

"Yas'm," agreed Uncle Billy. "I dunno what yo' talkin' 'bout but I spec'
you's right. Yas'm."

"Dear Uncle Billy," repeated Mrs. Gary, while her eyes filled with
tears. "The most truthful--the most _honest_--"