nobody can't never conjure you if you wears a rabbit foot. This
here one is the lef' hin' foot; it was ketched by a red-headed
nigger with crosseyes in a graveyard at twelve er'clock on a
Friday night, when they's a full moon. He give it to Aunt Cindy
to tie 'roun' my nake when I's a baby. Ain't you got no abbit
foot?" he anxiously inquired.

"No," she answered. "I have never had one and I have never been
conjured either. Give it to me, William; I can not allow you to
be so superstitious," and she held out her hand.

"Please, Aunt Minerva, jest lemme wear it to-night," he pleaded.
"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's been wearin' us rabbit foots ever
sence we's born."

"No," she said firmly; "I'll put a stop to such nonsense at
once. Give it to me, William."

Billy looked at his aunt's austere countenance and lovingly
fingered his charm; he opened his mouth to say something, but
hesitated; slowly he untied the string around his neck and laid
his treasure on her lap; then without looking up, he ran into his
own little room, closing the door behind him.

Soon afterward Miss Minerva, hearing a sound like a stifled sob
coming from the adjoining room, opened the door softly and looked
into a sad, little face with big, wide, open eyes shining with
tears.

"What is the matter, William?" she coldly asked.