When the performance was ended, and the final tinkle of the rollicking
banjo accompaniment died away down the slope of Sommerton Hill, Phyllis put
her plump chin in her hands and, with her elbows on her knees, looked
steadily at Barnaby for a while.
"Barn," she said, "is my father going to get the colored people to indorse
Mr. Tom Bannister?"
"Yes, ma'm," replied the old negro; and then he caught his breath and
checked himself in confusion. "Da-da-dat is, er--I spec' so--er--I dun'no',
ma'm," he stammered. "Fo' de Lor' I's--"
Phyllis interrupted him with an impatient laugh, but said no more. In due
time Barnaby sang her some other ditties, and then she went into the house.
She gave the negro a large coin and on the veranda steps she called back to
him, "Good-night, Uncle Barn," in a voice that made him shake his head and
mutter:
"De bressed chile! De bressed chile!" And yet he was aware that she had
outwitted him and gained his secret. He knew how matters stood between the
young lady and Tom Bannister, and there arose in his mind a vivid sense of
the danger that might result to his own and Colonel Sommerton's plans from
a disclosure of this one vital detail.
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