"You're in charge, are you? Where's the rest of the
folks?"
"Mars' Nat, he's gone to town to-day," answered John Jay, proudly. "I'm
keepin' toll-gate this evenin', Mistah Boden."
"So!" exclaimed the man, with a cunning gleam in his little eyes.
"That's the lay of the land, is it?"
Instead of taking out his pocket-book, he threw one foot over his knee,
and began to ask questions in a friendly manner that flattered John Jay.
"Let's see. Your name's Hickman, hain't it?"
"Yessa, John Jay Hickman," answered the boy.
"Yes," drawled the man, gnawing at a plug of tobacco which he took from
his pocket. "I know all about you. Your mammy used to cook for my wife,
and your gran'mammy washed at our house one summer. How is the old
woman, anyhow?"
"She's well, thank you, Mistah Boden," was the pleased answer.
"And then there's that brother of her's--Billy! old Uncle Billy! How's
he getting on?"
"Oh, he's mighty complainin', Mistah Boden; he's got such a misery in
his back all the time that he say he jus' aint got ambition 'nuff to get
out'n his own way.
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