Uncle Noah surveyed his ruffled back feathers with increased respect.
"So," he said, "yoh refuse me an interview, Massa Job Fairfax. Yoh is
sleepy, sah, dat's whut's got into yoh." He stroked the turkey with a
gentle hand, and, Job, resenting the indignity, withdrew his head from
the sheltering wing and pecked at the brown fingers, turning around
with a stately movement and facing the light once more with a sleepy
blink of his bright, beadlike eyes.

"Now, sah, we can talk," exclaimed the negro in delight. Drawing up an
old box he seated himself before the roost and beamed benevolently over
his glasses.

"Colonel done say yoh gobble under de winder 'bout suppertime," he
began confidentially. "When ol' Mis' cry 'bout young Massa Dick de
Colonel he jus' gotta scold 'bout sumthin', and as yoh is de mos'
important person about he jus' naturally selects yoh."

The turkey held his head upon one side, apparently in critical
admiration of the darky's quaint old scarfpin which resembled a grain
of corn mounted on a needle.

Uncle Noah, who had always had a faint mistrust of Job's attitude
toward this ancient Ethiopian heirloom, promptly removed it to a place
of safety. Then with a sudden resolve that no thought of the coming
tragedy should mar his last visit with his old companion he rose and
sought a dim, cobwebby corner of the barn, whence he returned with a
box.

"Dese yere, Job," he explained, "is de flowers whut young Massa Dick