“Miss Lucy, dear, it would 'a' done yo' heart good to see the way them trust warehouses blazed up!” And the old lady, smiling and crying both to oncet, says, “God bless her brave boy.” But the old gentleman looked mighty serious, and his worry settled into a frown between his eyes, and he turns to me and says: “Yo' must pardon us, sir, fo' neglecting to thank yo' sooner.” I told him that would be all right, fur him not to worry none. And him and me and Mandy, which was the nigger cook, got Bud into the house and into his bed. And his mother gets that busy ordering Mandy and the old gentleman around, to get things and fix things, and make Bud as easy as she could, that you could see she was one of them kind of woman that gets a lot of satisfaction out of having some one sick to fuss over. And after quite a while George gets back with Doctor Porter. He sets Bud's arm, and he locates the bullet in him, and he says he guesses he'll do in a few weeks if nothing like blood poisoning nor gangrene nor inflammation sets in. Only the doctor says he “reckons” instead of he “guesses,” which they all do down there. And they all had them easy-going, wait-a-bit kind of voices, and didn't see no pertic'ler importance in their “r's.” It wasn't that you could spell it no different when they talked, but it sounded different. I eat my breakfast with the old gentleman, and then I took a sleep until time fur dinner. They wouldn't hear of me leaving that night. I fully intended to go on the next day, but before I knowed it I been there a couple of days, and have got very well acquainted with that fambly. Well, that was a house divided agin itself. Miss Lucy, she is awful favourable to all this nightrider business. She spunks up and her eyes sparkles whenever she thinks about that there tobaccer trust. She would of like to been a night-rider herself. But the old man, he says law and order is the main pint. What the country needs, he says, ain't burning down tobaccer warehouses, and shooting your neighbours, and licking them with switches, fur no wrong done never righted another wrong. “But you were in the Ku Klux Klan yo'self,” says Miss Lucy.