Hannah Calline's Jim

IN TWO PARTS. PART SECOND.

IV.

ABOUT two o’clock one misty, moonlight night in October, Mary Frances was awakened by the shutting of the side gate, that led from the flower-garden in front to the back yard. This gate, which was overlooked by Mary Frances’s bedroom window, was, more accurately, a sort of door in a high plank wall, and when it shut it struck the wall with a dull sound that was unmistakable. Mary Frances heard this sound twice, as if some one had entered, and then gone back again after a few moments.

When she heard the sound the second time, she rose and looked out of the window, and saw a dark figure — whether man or woman she could not tell — flit past the mimosa-tree, and disappear around the bay-window. She woke her father out of a sound sleep to tell him all this, and Mr. Newsome, failing to persuade her that she had had the nightmare, armed himself with a pistol, and proceeded to search the house, followed by Mrs. Newsome with an umbrella, and Mary Frances with a bootjack ; but nothing out of the way could be discovered.

Early next morning, however, Mary Frances descried, in the middle of the flower-border in the back yard, a rough stick, broken from some tree or shrub, and stuck upright in the earth. When she jerked it out of the ground, a coarse white thread followed the stick, and drew after it something that glittered in the sunlight. Mary Frances, stooping to examine this glittering something, was astonished to find her diamond ring. It was covered with dirt, but it was her ring, for there were her initials, M. F. N., on the inside. She rushed into the house and proclaimed her discovery, but no inquiry availed to throw any light on the mystery. It could only be surmised that whoever it was that came through the gate in the middle of the night must have come with the purpose of returning the ring in this secret fashion. Mr. Newsome had a strong suspicion that this person might be Hannah Calline, but neither she nor Jim Brand could be found.

“ The rascal has skipped from justice, Mr. Newsome said, “ and Hannah Calline has followed him. Heaven help her ! I don’t suppose we shall ever see her again.”

Time passed, and on a dismal, rainy day in March an old negro woman, ragged and haggard, rang timidly at the back gate, and asked to see Mrs. Newsome.

“ Miss Louisa, is you done furgot me ? ” said the poor creature tremulously, seeing that Mrs. Newsome did not recognize her.

“ Oh, Hannah, is this you?” Mrs. Newsome exclaimed in distress. She saw that Hannah was in some great trouble, and she made her sit down by the fire, while Mary Frances brought a glass of wine.

Hannah Calline was glad to sit down, for she was very weak and tired. She was trembling, and the muscles of her face quivered so that at first she could not speak ; but when she had swallowed the wine, she said, with a long sigh, “ I ’se had a heap o’ trouble, Miss Louisa: an’ Mars Dan’l, he tole me ter come back, an’ I come.”

“ That is right,” said Mrs. Newsome. “ What has been the matter ? ”

Hannah Calline hardly seemed to hear her. “ Honey, did you git yo’ ring ? ” she asked eagerly, turning to Mary Frances, who held up her finger, on which the ring sparkled. " Yes ! yes ! ” said Hannah Calline. “ I prayed ter Gawd, an’ I made sho’ you 'd not miss hit ef I stuck hit up 'mongst yo’ flowers. I sneaked in by night, cawse I wuz fair ’shamed ter come by day an’ own up Jim stole dat ring. I did n’ know hit when I quit dis house, but I foun’ hit out afterwuds, an’ I ain’ had no peace o’ mind tell I fotch hit back. Jim wuz skeered ter sell hit, in Mobile, an’ the nex’ day after I fotch hit back we went ter a place in Massisip they calls Corinth. An’ Jim, when he foun’ out I had brung back dat ring — dat wuz de fust time Jim heat me.”

“ Beat you? The first time ?” repeated Mrs. Newsome, aghast.

“ Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! ” cried little Mary Frances.

“ Yes, Miss Louisa.” said Hannah Calline mournfully. “ I ’se been disapp’inted in Jim. I ’se ’bleedged ter own up, I ’se disapp’inted in Jim. But I ain’ raised him, an’ dat ’s a comfort.”

“ And where is he now ? ” Mrs. Newsome asked.

Hannah Calline lifted her ragged shawl, and wiped her eyes, as she answered brokenly, “ Jim — he ’s jailed fur life ” —

Mary Frances crept to her side, and whispered, “ Don’t cry. My popper will get him out.”

“ Bless yo’ soul, honey, dere ain’ no jedge nur lawyer kin git Jim out. Jim an’ some yothers broke inter a place an’ stole some things, an’ dey proved on him strong. An’ I dunno ez I want Jim turned loose ; he mought keep on in his sins; but shet up ez he is, he kin study on 'pentance. Hit warn’t me raised Jim, Miss Louisa ; but I rekin Miss Patty done de best she could,” and Hannah Calline sighed. “ I come away after I seed de las’ of Jim. I went ter see him in de jail, an’ what you rekin Jim said ter me ? He cussed me, Miss Louisa, Jim cussed me, an’ he said he did n’ b’lieve I wuz his mammy.” And Hannah Calline covered up her face.

“ Well, Hannah,” said Mrs. Newsome, after a painful pause, “ you have other children who will be good to you. ”

Hannah Calline shook her head. “ I dunno ; I dunno ez they kin mek up fur hit all,” she answered, with a kind of gasp. " I ’se been through a sight o’ trial sence las’ I see you, Miss Louisa. I ’se gone hungry an’ I ’se gone cold; I ’se slep’ on de bare flo’ an’ lived in de rain, an’ I ’se wuked harder fur Jim than ever I had ter fur ole marster: an’ fur all dat, Jim have heat me, time an’ agin. An’ I warn’ nuver struck a lick in my life, ’ceptin’ de time dat man, Walsin’ham, wuz cussin’ his luck wid Kaintuck niggers.”

“ Why did you submit to such treatment ? ” asked Mrs. Newsome.

“ I ain’ nuver owned hit befo ,” Hannah Calline made reply. “ When de neighbors said Jim beat me, I tole em dey lied. But nothin’ ain’ nuver hu’t me lak dem words he said ter me in jail — Lawd A’mighty, honey, is you cryin’ ? You need n’ fret; hit wuz de Lawd’s will. I ’se boun’ ter be thankful I foun’ Jim, any way. I wuz n’t nuver gwan be satisfied ontel I foun him ; ’peared lak dat what freedom wuz fur. On’y I doan want ter go back ter de plantation jes’ yit. Dey was always sot beginst me huntin’ Jim. I wants ter stay 'long o’ you an’ Mars Dan’l ontel I gits qualified, sorter.”

So once again a place was made in the Newsome household for Hannah Calline, and once again Mary Frances had the pleasure of replenishing the forlorn creature’s wardrobe.

The man that drove Mrs. Newsome’s carriage at this time was a negro, who was called Jay. In point of style, Jay was decidedly inferior to Jim Brand. He was short of stature and slouching in his gait, and he lacked that air of confidence in himself which gave to Jim Brand so imposing an appearance on the carriage-box ; and though, like Jim Brand, he could read and write, in cookery he had no skill to speak of, neither did he understand the fluting-irons. Nevertheless, Jay was diligent and obliging, and it was long before Mrs. Newsome had any cause to find fault with him. He had entered her service in January, and from that date until began the warm days in April Jay pursued a blameless course; but when afternoon drives became the order of the day, Jay informed Mrs. Newsome, one Friday morning, in his most respectful manner, that he could not drive the carriage that afternoon.

Mrs. Newsome inquired if he were ill; but no, Jay said he was very well. He had a round, honest, good-natured face, and did not shrink from meeting Mrs. Newsome’s eyes, yet evidently he was unwilling to give his true reason. He had an engagement, he stammered.

“ You have an engagement to drive my carriage,” said Mrs. Newsome. “I don’t understand this, Jay, and I don’t like it.”

“ Yes ’m,” sighed Jay humbly, and looked distressed. “I ’se 'bleedged ter give hit up, for this day.”

“ Very well,” Mrs. Newsome assented, finally. She reflected that Jay, on the whole, had given satisfaction, and she was willing for this once to excuse him, without inquiring too closely.

She had almost forgotten the affair, when, the next Friday, Jay again respectfully begged leave to absent himself. Mrs. Newsome very naturally felt annoyed, but this time also she consented. When the third Friday came, and the same request was made, she was indignant.

“ Is this to happen every Friday ? ” she demanded.

“'Spect it is. ma’am,” Jay sighed. “ It is come ter be a standin’ engagement.”

When Mr. Newsome was informed of this, he remarked that Jay might find it lead to a walking engagement. “ It is some political society has got yon in its clutches, I 'll bet my head,” he said to Jay.

“ No, sir; ’t ain’t politics, Mr. Newsome.” Jay declared. “ I ain’t got no money ter waste on politics.”

“ What, then, is it ? ”

But on this point, Jay remained obstinately silent; though when threatened with dismissal, he begged so piteously to be retained that Mr. Newsome had not the heart to refuse him.

The following Friday, however, to Mrs. Newsome’s surprise, Jay did not present; his usual petition for leave of absence.

“ What? ” said she. “ Has that engagement come to an end ? ”

“ Fur de present,” answered Jay dejectedly.

“ And when is it to be renewed ? ” Mrs. Newsome was disposed to rally him on his Friday outings. But Jay had perfect manners; his bearing said plainly that Mrs. Newsome might condescend to jest with him, but that he could not presume to jest with her. He answered, with a sober solemnity, —

“ At the Lawd’s will, ma’am.”

Several weeks went by, and still Jay did not renew his customary request on Friday; and as he became, if possible, more assiduous than ever in the performance of his duties, the Newsomes now hoped that at last they had secured a coachman whom they could regard as a fixture in their establishment.

But there came a cloud over this happy state of things : Jay had the misfortune to incur Hannah Calline’s suspicion.

Since her return, Hannah Calline had kept very much to herself. The cook and the house-girl derided her countrified ways, and taunted her with her lack of spirit in clinging to the family of her former owners ; but Hannah Calline knew her friends, and was faithful to them. She had looked upon Jay with favor because of the respectful consideration with which he treated a poor old woman, who might be, as he explained, the age of his mother, if his mother were living ; but Jay’s “ manners ” counted for nothing, in her estimation, when she discovered that he had made off with one of the nine baked apples she herself had set on the tea-table just half an hour after Mrs. Newsome returned from her drive. “What it was that required Jay’s presence in the dining-room, a few minutes later, was more than Hannah Calline could divine ; she only knew that eight apples remained where there had been nine, and she immediately counted the spoons. The spoons were found to be all right, but the missing apple gave Hannah Calline great distress. She kept her trouble to herself, however, and decided to watch Jay ; and watch him she did, as the poor fellow was soon painfully aware.

“ What makes Jay look so uneasy ? ” Mrs. Newsome asked,

“ Dunno ’in,” Hannah Calline answered.

A few days later, she went to Mrs. Newsome with the information that a silver fork was missing. “ Miss Louisa, does you spect I tuk hit ? ” she asked piteously.

“ No,” Mrs. Newsome assured her. “ It may be in the kitchen or the pantry. It will be found.”

But the fork was not found.

“ Jay got dat fork,” Hannah Calline insisted. “ Dat what mek him gwan ’bout so oneasy.”

Mrs. Newsome was very loath to believe this ; and she preferred to wait for developments rather than accuse him unjustly.

No such scruples had Hannah Calline ; she taxed Jay openly with the theft, which Jay indignantly denied. “ His ole miss what raised him had larnt him better then ter steal.”

This denial, so far from convincing Hannah Calline, determined her to search the little room over the stable, assigned to Jay. She knew the room well ; it was the same Jim Brand had occupied. There was a closet beside the chimney, the door of which was nailed up. Hannah Calline had never seen the inside of this closet, for it was made fast during Jim Brand’s occupancy. But she did not stop to consider this. Armed with a hatchet, site was proceeding to burst open the door, when Jay came in.

“ You better quit dat,” he counseled. “ You gwan git yo’sef in trouble, meddlin’ wid white folks’ do’s. Dat been nailed up ever sence I been here, an’ what ’s inside don’t consarn you nur me.”

“ I boun’ ter see what’s inside,” said Hannah Calline. It lent energy to her purpose to find Jay no whit disconcerted by her proceeding. “Brazen raskil! ” thought Hannah Calline.

When at last she had the door open, she stood an instant, dazed at what she saw; then, with a cry of rage, and joy, and wonder, she dragged forth a small, hair-covered trunk. With as little ceremony as she had used in regard to the closet door, she burst open the lid, and before Jay had time for further speech she held aloft in her left hand an ancient brown satin dress ; the next instant, with blazing eyes, she sprang upon him, and collared him with her right hand. Rage lent her strength. " You thief ! You thief ! ” she shrieked, and shook him violently.

“Lemme go! Oh, Lawd, lemme go ! " pleaded Jay, with a face of abject terror.

But Hannah Calline held on grimly.

“ Whey dem chickens, you thief? ” she shouted. “ An’ whey dat baked apple an’ dat silver fork, you eberlastin’, owdacious thief ? ”

The hubbub brought the other servants, and finally Mrs. Newsome and Mary Frances, upon the scene.

“ You tell me you dunno ? ” stormed Hannah Calline, too much beside herself to feel the restraint of any presence.

“ I ’ll mek you know ! ” And she shook him again.

“I 'clar’ ter gracious. Miz Newsome. said Jay appealingly, " I ain’t nuver seed dat trunk befo’.”

“No; you ain’ seed dat trunk, nur de coob o’ chickens lef’ in yo’ charge, bout a year ago ! I wonders I ain’ seed de favor o’ you befo’, you owdacious wagabone! ”

“ Let him go, Hannah,” Mrs. Newsome commanded.

“ No, Miss Louisa. I ain’ gwan let him go tell I done shuk de truth outen him. You kin read, you nigger; read me dat ! ” Hannah Calline shouted, still holding Jay by the collar, while she thrust the lining of the brown satin waist under his eyes.

“ Oh, Lawd ! Lawd !" cried Jay fearfully, as his reluctant glance encountered the words. " Miss Fatty Larkin Her dress.”“ ’Spect I gwan crazy ! Who is you ? Lemme go! Lemme go! ” For answer Hannah Calline jerked him fiercely, and the missing fork dropped upon the floor.

“ Dar, now, Miss Louisa! ” cried Hannah Calline in triumph.

“ Oh, Jay ! " said Mrs. Newsome.

“ I ’clar’ ter gracious, I ain’t stole hit ! ” Jay asseverated.

“ Oh, no ! ” retorted Hannah Calline. “ You jes’ borry’d hit. Git out! ”

“ I ain’t stole hit! ” Jay insisted. “ It was puore accident. But none o’ you ain’t gwan b’lieve me. You sen’ fur my ole miss, Miz Newsome, up here on Palmetto Street; she kin tell you this one nigger doan steal. Fur Gawd’s sake, fur my ole miss’ sake, doan sen’ me ter jail! ” he pleaded, dropping on his knees.

“ Get up, Jay,”said Mrs. Newsome.

“ Don’t make the matter worse by denial. Since the fork is recovered, you may go your way in peace. But I cannot keep you in my service. I will pay you what is due you, but you must go at once.”

Jay made no further entreaty. He took the money Mrs. Newsome paid him, thanked her humbly, and departed, the picture of woe.

“ Well, thang Gawd,” said Hannah Calline, “ I got some comfort; dat thief what stole my brown satting Miss Patty Larkin give me, I ’se seen him shamed good.”

V.

The rest of that eventful day was spent by Hannah Calline in airing the brown satin and muttering thanksgiving that Mars Dan’l and Miss Louisa were rid of that nigger Jay forever; for Hannah Calline thought never to see him more.

But strange tidings came next day. Betimes, in the morning, the door-bell rang with a vigorous peal, and the house-maid admitted a little old whitehaired woman, who demanded to see Mr. Newsome. The house-maid delivered her card with some trepidation, for there were rumors afloat concerning this strange woman calculated to raise the hair on an African’s head ; but Mr. Newsome, reading the name “ Mrs. Lassiter,” descended with alacrity to see her. He remembered her encounter with Jim Brand on the Bay Shell Road, and he expected interesting developments.

Mrs. Lassiter had come on business, and she proceeded immediately to unfold the purpose of her visit. “ I am the owner of a negro, sir,” said she, “ that has gotten into trouble ” —

“Pardon, madam.” Mr. Newsome interrupted, smiling, yet somewhat startled. “ I must remind you of a certain date in our history ” —

“ Precious little I care for that! ” she retorted. “ All the rest are gone, and I submit ; but this one I bought with good, hard money of my own saving, and I say he belongs to me so long as I live.”

“ And has he deserted you ? ” Mr. Newsome asked, humoring her whim. He had now no doubt that she was demented.

“ Deserted me ! I ’d like to see him desert me ! No ! Jim knows better. Jim is your carriage-driver" —

“ I beg pardon,” said Mr. Newsome. “ A year ago we had a carriage-driver named Jim, — Jim Brand.”

“ A precious rascal he to go unhanged ! ” she cried, springing from her chair, and clenching her small fists. “ If he lived with you, he robbed you.”

“ He did,” said Mr. Newsome ; “ but he has met his deserts since then: he has been sentenced for life.”

“ Heaven be praised ! ” ejaculated Mrs. Lassiter, dropping into her chair again. “ A bad negro. He robbed me. It was to enlighten you about Jim Brand that I came; but I 've something to say first about your other coachman, the other Jim ” —

“ Jim Brand was the only coachman we’ve had named Jim.”

“ Jim, Jim. Jim,” repeated Mrs. Lassiter irritably, “ who drove your carriage yesterday or the day before.”

“ He called himself Jay, —Jay Beeal, if I remember.”

“ Well, Jim or J., it’s all the same. There were so many Jims on the place we had to distinguish them, and this one we called J. B. L., and then J. for convenience, but Jim is his name, and I know him for an honest negro. Appearances may be against him, but Jim doesn’t steal.”

“ Appearances are against him,” said Mr. Newsome. " It’s a strong case.”

Mrs. Lassiter rose abruptly, with a look of keen distress, and walked to one of the windows, where she stood some moments silent, with her back to Mr. Newsome; but she returned with a resolute air.

“ I am going to make a humiliating confession,” she said. “ I am very poor, as you see, but that’s not the point. I am also old and feeble, and there is nothing I can do to help myself. Once I had property, but it’s all gone. I ’m alone in the world, with nobody to take care of me but J. B. L. It seems to me that’s fair, since I paid good money for him when he was no manner of use to me. A puny little rickety-legged baby, bereft of his mammy, — nobody would be bothered with him until I was called a fool for laying out good money in a sorry bargain. But it eased my heart in a heavy hour; and here am I to-day, a poor old penniless woman, tottering to her grave, and I say I bought Jim out of pity, and he has no right to freedom until I die. And Jim isn’t ungrateful; he works for my support. This is hard on a proud woman, sir, but I ’ve said to myself it may be borne among strangers. Two years ago I had still a little left of my once ample means, but the last is gone. Some diamonds I had saved in case of need were stolen from me by Jim Brand. Now I am destitute, and if J. B. L. did not work for me—I should starve.” After a moment’s pause she continued: " I 'm here to-day to see Jim righted. Jim didn’t steal that fork. I ‘ve been ill the last three weeks, and he brought me a baked apple, which he stole, if you will, from your table; and in his haste he took away the fork, which he tried time and again to return, but that old woman you have here kept so close a watch he never found a chance, and he carried the fork about with him for fear of its being lost. I raised Jim myself. I can vouch for his principles. Don’t you believe me ? ”

“ But, my dear madam,” said Mr. Newsome, who could not surrender his conviction on demand, “ why did n’t he make known your case, and ask for the apple ? ”

“ Because I have forbidden him to speak of me, or my needs, or my whereabouts ! ” she answered fiercely. “ And Jim is a simple soul; he knows only to obey.”

“We should have been happy to be of service to you, madam ” —

“ You owe me nothing! ” she interrupted with violence ; “ but Jim pays a debt of gratitude I need not scruple to accept. He does the best he can. He has never let me miss my drive, when I could take it.”

“ Ah ? That explains ! ” interjected Mr. Newsome.

“ It does n’t explain Half ! ” retorted the old lady fretfully. " J. B. L. is suspected of having stolen a little old hair trunk ; and there has been much ado about a coop of chickens, concerning which he knows nothing, neither do I. But since you say Jim Brand was your coachman a year ago. I ’ll warrant he knows what became of the chickens, and how that trunk found its way into that closet. It was Jim Brand, and nobody else, that stole that trunk, — what for, or how, I don’t know; but that brown satin dress I know, and I must see it, — the dress and the old woman who claims it.”

“ Jim Brand’s mother ” — Mr. Newsome began.

“ No such thing ! If she was worth having for a mother, that rascal was sharp enough to pass himself off for her son ; for he knew the whole story, and how I had tried to find Jim’s mother, and failed. But Jim Brand’s mother died in Kentucky, and I saw her buried ; it was just after I married Dr. Penniman ” —

“ I beg pardon! ” interrupted Mr. Newsome. “ The name on your card ” —

“ Mrs. Lassiter. Did never you hear of a woman marrying twice ? I married Dr. Penninmn, and a life I led of it, between his property and mine; and I was cheated by his lawyer.”

“ So you are Miss Patty Larkin, whom poor old Hannah Calline talks of ? ”

“ I was — a long time ago.”

“ If you will wait ” — said Mr. Newsome, as he left the room.

He ordered a cup of coffee for Mrs. Lassiter, and, hastening up-stairs, told ids wife and little Mary Frances the strange story.

“ Then it was all a mistake about Jim Brand being Hannah Calline’s son! ” cried Mary Frances. “ And this new Jim is the real Jim ? I ’m so glad! ”

“ Not so fast, my little daughter. We 'll wait until that queer old woman down-stairs has seen Hannah; and we ’ll go down and witness the interview.”

But Hannah Calline was hard to persuade to that interview. “ Lawd save us, Mars Dan’l! ” she pleaded. “ Doan you know dat’s a kunjer - woman ? She’s mo’n five hund’ed years ole, dat same little ole woman down-stairs. She ’s de one what rides on de Bay Shell Road ev’y Friday. Hit’s a onlucky day, but hit suits her, ’long o’ her bein’ a kunjer-woman. Folks tell me thet onct she wuz rich in lan’ an’ niggers, but now she ain’ got mo’n one po’ nigger thet is too skeered ter b’lieve he ’s free. She kunjered him, sho’ly; an’ how I know but she gwan kunjer me, 'long o’ dat nigger Jay ? ”

At last, however, upon the repeated assurance that under the circumstances it was impossible that she should be " kunjered,” Hannah Calline produced the brown satin, and followed Mr. and Mrs. Newsome and the little Mary Frances into the “ kunjer - woman’s ” presence.

The cup of coffee had refreshed Mrs. Lassiter, and she looked less wan and weary. When she had acknowledged the introduction to Mrs. Newsome and Mary Frances, she turned and stared eagerly at Hannah Calline, who held up the brown satin as a shield between herself and the fearful mistress of magic.

What thoughts, what memories of hopes long vanished, of dead-and-buried joys, clung round that frayed and faded garment! The lines of Mrs. Lassiter’s face softened as she looked at it.

“ Patty Larkin’s dress ! ” she sighed. “ You need not turn the lining to show me her name ; I should know that dress anywhere. Poor Patty Larkin ! A young woman she was, when she wore that dress.”

“ She wuz middlin’ on, an’ past her prime,” murmured Hannah Calline, as if involuntarily.

“ I say she was young,” repeated Mrs. Lassiter, — " a baby, compared to what she is now. I suppose you’d like to hear the story of that bit of finery poor Patty Larkin never wore but once?” she said, turning abruptly to Mary Frances, whose face was aglow with the keenest interest. ” Well, it was a great while ago, and Patty Larkin was a happy woman when she put it on for the first and last time. She wore it in honor of the return of an old friend who had been a wanderer fifteen long years, — a friend who was more than a friend, though neither he nor she had ever acknowledged as much ; but all the world was welcome to know who it was Patty Larkin had waited for, when she put on that brown satin dress, one happy day in June. But before she could dress for him again a great calamity befell, — no matter what, no matter how, — and Patty Larkin gave up her longdelayed chance of happiness to watch over a poor, forlorn, demented creature who had no other friend. May be she was n’t wise ; may be she had as good a right to accept happiness as to accept duty ; but that’s no matter now. The sight of that brown satin made her miserable, yet it was precious in her sight, and therefore she made a strange disposition of it: she gave it to a poor negro mother, forced to part from her little child.”

“ Whey Miss Patty now, in Gawd’s name, mistis ? ” entreated Hannah Calline, in spite of fear.

A moment the faded old woman looked at her in silence. Hannah Calline ? ” she said, and smiled. ” Am I so changed ? ”

Hannah Calline staggered back, threw up her arms, uttered a hoarse cry, and fell at Mrs. Lassiter’s feet, her face to the floor. “ Miss Patty ! Miss Patty ! Miss Patty ! ” she wailed.

“ Get up ! said " Miss Patty,”but Hannah Calline would not lift her face.

“ I ’se ’shamed of mysef forever !" she moaned. “ De Lawd is blinded my jedgment ter mek me always misdoubt. Folks telled me you wuz a kunjer-woman, an’ I b’lieved ’em, tell now I ’se ’shamed ter look you in de face. An’ dar wuz Jim, my Jim, what I wuz so sot beginst. You done yo’ best, Miss Patty, but Jim ain’ no credit ter yo’ raisin’.”

“ I know better ! Get up from there, Hannah Calline ! ”

Hannah Calline, obeying the voice of authority, slowly gathered herself up, and stood with clasped hands and bowed head. “ I ax yo’ pardin, Miss Patty,” she said humbly.

“ Not Jim Brand, you benighted creature !" declared Mrs. Lassiter, bringing her fist down upon her knee with emphasis. “ That rascally Penniman nigger ! He’s a sharp one, but he never fooled me. He was cunning enough to pass himself off for your son; and I 'll warrant he made you work for him ! Oh, he knew all about Hannah Calline’s Jim ; he knew I had tried my best to find you for the real Jim, until I gave you up for dead and gone. No ! your son Jim is the simple-witted creature you called a thief yesterday, because he had one of the Newsomes’ silver forks in his possession; and that brown satin ” —

Then once again " Miss Patty ” gave her evidence, and once again was Hannah Calline convicted of a “ blinded jedgment.”

“ Lemme sed down, Miss Louisa, please, ma’am,” she said faintly, as she sank upon the rug. “I ’m pow’ful weak, an dat s prised hit doan seem lak I kin ratly on’ erstan’ — 'bout Jim. You 'll hatter ’splain agin, Miss Patty, But “ Miss Patty’s ” excitement had spent itself; she leaned back in her chair exhausted, and a few slow tears rolled down her withered cheeks. “I ’m an old woman,” she said. “ I ’ve seen a world of sorrow and trouble, and I ’m left alone, too poor to live, too old to work. Jim is the last piece of property remaining to me, and now I must give him up.”

“ Lawd, Miss Patty, ain’ you ’shame’ ter talk so ?" Hannah Calline remonstrated. " You sho’ly doan b’lieve we gwan quit you, me an’ Jim ? Ef hit be Jim?” she added, still in a state of confusion.

“ Of course it’s Jim,” said Mrs. Lassiter fretfully. “ Don’t you suppose I know what I ’m talking about? Jim Brasswood first, then Jim Larkin, and he might have been Jim Penniman and Jim Lassiter, I suppose, as well, only he got the initials J. B. L. fitted to him. Come with me, and you shall see.”

So Hannah Calline put on her capacious bombazine bonnet, and went with " Miss Patty” to " ax pardin of Jim.”

“'Pears lak the Lawd ain’ got no use fur dish yer ole nigger, ’ceptin’ jes’ ter mek a fool of her,” she said, between tears and laughter. “ Jes’ ter think o’ me jukin’ my Jim aroun’, an’ tellin’ him he wuz a lie an’ a thief! Well ! de Lawd be thanked for all his blessin’s ! An’ doan you cry, Miss Mary Frances, honey ; you ain’ seed de last o’ Hannah Calline yit.”

Elizabeth W. Bellamy.