The Colonel had come in quietly and stood listening. I had heard the click of the outer gate, but supposed it was the grocer returning with the additional supplies. "Who's Chad goin' to thresh, Major?" the Colonel asked, with a smile as he put his arm over my shoulder. "Miss Nancy's pickaninny," I answered. "What, little Jim?" There was a tone of surprise now in the Colonel's voice. Chad stood abashed for a moment. He had stowed away the groceries, and had the duck in his hand again, his fingers fumbling among its feathers. "'Scuse me, Colonel, I ain't gwine whale him, of co'se, 'thout yo' permission, but he's dat puffed up he'll bust fo' long." "What's he been up to?" "Sassin' Misser Grocerman--runnin' to de gate wid his head out like a tarr'pin's, smoking dese yer paper seegars dat smell de whole place up vill'nous, 'stid of waitin' on de Mist'iss." "And you think beatin' him will do him any good, Chad? How many times did yo' Marster John beat you?" Chad looked up, and a smile broke over his face. "I don't reckellmember airy lick de Marster ever laid on me." "Raised you pretty well, didn't he, Chad?" "Yas, sah--dat he did." "Anybody beat you since you grew up?" "No, sah." "Pretty good, Chad, ain't you?" "I try to be, sah." "Well, now, be a little patient with that boy. It isn't his fault that he's sp'ilt; it's part of the damnable system this Gov'ment has put upon us since the war. Am I right, Major?" I nodded assent. Chad pulled out a handful of feathers from the duck, dropped them into a barrel near where we stood in the yard, and said, as if his mind was finally made up: "Co'se, Colonel, I ain't nuffin' to say jes' 'cept dis. When I was dat boy's age I was runnin' 'round barefoot an' putty nigh naked, my shirt out o' my pants haalf de time; but Marse John tuk care o' me, an' when I got hongry I knowed whar dey was sumpin to eat an' I got it. Dat boy ain't had nobody take care o' him till de Mist'iss tuk him, and haalf de time he went hongry; no manners, no bringin' up--runnin' wid po' white trash, gittin' his head full o' fool notions 'stid o' waitin' on his betters. Now look at him. Come in yere yisterday mornin', an' want borry my bresh to black his shoes. Den he must bresh his clothes wid yo' bresh--_yo'_ bresh, mind you! I cotched him at it. Den he gits on his toes an' squints at hisself in de Mist'iss glass--I cotched him at dat, too--an' he ugly as one o' dem black tree-toads. You know what done dat? Dem Richmond clothes he's got on. I tell ye, Colonel, sumpin gotter be done, or dem buttons'll spile dat chile." The Colonel laughed heartily. "What does Miss Nancy say about yo' barr'l stave?" "She don't say nuffin', 'cause she don't know." "Well, don't you thresh Jim till you see her." "No, sah." "And Chad?" "Yes, sah." "When you do, pick out a little stave. Come, Major, go back with me for just ten minutes mo' and see the dea'est woman in the world." V