behave hisse'f; 'r else he ort to be spanked,--he really ort, John, in
jestice to the child"

But John was of another mould. "Law, Cornely! Hit's jest baby-doin's. The
idee o' him a-settin' up 'at yo' dishes ain't clean! That shore do beat
all!" And he had executed an exchange of plates under Cornelia's
deprecating eyes. And so the matter went.

Again, upon a June day, Sammy was at play with the scion of the only negro
family which had ever been known in all the Turkey Track regions. The
Southern mountaineers have little affinity, socially or politically, with
the people of the settlements. There were never any slaveholders among
them, and the few isolated negroes were treated with almost perfect
equality by the simple-minded mountain dwellers.

"Sammy honey, you an' Jimmy mus' cl'ar up yo' litter here. Don't leave it
on mammy's nice flo'. Hit's mighty nigh supper-time. Cl'ar up now, 'fo'
Pappy comes."

Sammy stiffened his little figure to a startling rigidity. "I ain't a-goin'
to work!" he flung out. "Let him do it; _he's a nigger_!" And this was the
last word of the argument.

This was Sammy--handsome, graceful, exceedingly winning, sudden and
passionate, disdaining like a young zebra the yoke of labor, and, when
crossed, absolutely beyond all reason or bounds; the life of every
gathering of young people as he grew up; much made of, deferred to, sought
after, yet everywhere blamed as undutiful and ungrateful.

"Oh, I do p'intedly wish the neighbors would leave us alone," sighed Pap