When, at last, he found his breath, all he could gasp was, "Oh, Mammy!
the gandahs are aftah me! the gandahs are aftah me!"
Big boy as he was, Mammy stooped and lifted him in her arms, and holding
him close, with his head on her shoulder, rocked back and forth in the
big wooden chair until he grew calmer. Not until he had sobbed out the
whole story, and wiped his eyes several times on her apron, did he see
that there was company in the room.
George Chadwick was sitting by the door. It was the first time he had
been in the cabin since his return from college. He had ridden up from
the toll-gate on a passing wagon to see his old friend, Sheba, and had
been there the greater part of the afternoon, listening to her tales of
his mother in the old slavery days. He had not intended to accept her
urgent invitation to stay to supper, but when he saw that she shared
John Jay's fright, he decided to remain. Had it not been for his
protecting presence in the house, Mammy was so affected by the boy's
story that she would have barred every opening.
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