Pompey's eyes twinkled. "Dat's a no 'count livery notion, Miss 'Vadney, a coverin' up de cracks an' makin' de horse's hufs look better dan dey is. De King's chillens can't stoop ter any sech decepshuns. De Lord Jesus says, 'Pompey, I is de truff. You's got ter speak de truff an' live de truff ef you belongs ter me.' We ain't got no call ter cover up anything, Miss 'Vadney, ef we'se livin' ez de Lord wants us to. 'Sides, der ain't no 'cashun fer it. Ef we keeps de stable pure an' de food good an' gives de horse de right kind of exercise an' plenty of 'tention, de hufs will take care ob demselves," and he held Caesar's foot up for her inspection. "Halloo, Evadne, are you taking lessons in farriery? What's the matter, Pompey? Has Caesar got a sand crack?" and Louis sauntered up, the inevitable cigar between his lips. "I don't 'low my horses ever hez sech things, Mass Louis," said Pompey grandly. "Ha, ha! what a conceited old beggar you are. But I'll give the devil his due and acknowledge the horses are a credit to you." He held a dollar towards him balanced on his forefinger. "Here, take this and fill your pipe with it." "Don't want no pay fer doin' my dooty, Mass Louis." "Pshaw, man! Take a tip, can't you?" Pompey shook his head. "I don't smoke, Mass Louis." "Don't smoke!" ejaculated Louis. "You don't here, I know, because the Judge is afraid of fire, but you'll never make me believe that you don't spend your evenings over the fire with your pipe. You darkeys are as fond of one as the other." "You's mistaken, Mass Louis," said Pompey quietly. "'Pon my word! And why don't you smoke, Pomp? You don't know what you're missing. It is the greatest comfort on earth." "'Specs I don't need sech poor comfort, Mass Louis. I takes my comfort wid de Lord." Pompey's voice was low and sweet. Evadne felt her heart glow. "But come now, Pomp," persisted Louis, "that's all nonsense. You must have some reason for not smoking. Everybody does. Come, I insist on your telling me." Pompey was silent for a moment. "'The pure in heart shall see God,'" he said slowly. "I 'low, Mass Louis, de King's chillen's got ter be pure in body too."' "You insolent scoundrel! How dare you?" and Louis dashed the glowing end of his cigar in the negro's face. For a moment Pompey stood absolutely still,--the cigar which had left its mark upon his cheek lying smouldering at his feet,--then he turned quietly and walked away. Louis strode out of the coach-house. Evadne followed him, her eyes blazing. "You are a coward!" she cried passionately. "You would not have dared to do that to a man who could hit you back. You forced him to tell you and then struck him for doing it! If this is your culture and refinement, I despise it! I am going to be a Christian, like Pompey. That is grand!" "Well done, coz!" and Louis affected a laugh. "There's not much of the 'meek and lowly' in evidence just now at any rate."