“Lizzie, ain’t you know Felo bin stay’n wid me to my house evvy Sunday night for a long time? You ain’ think Felo come all de way clean ’cross de river jes’ to go to de New Hope church, is you?” “I know he all time braggin’ ’bout bein’ a good Chrishtun,” Lizize said, with cautious innocence. “But I ain’ never heayh’d ’im bring yo’ name in de queshtun no time.” Lethe’s mind was busy chasing after her wandering thoughts. “So da’s w’at make him come late all de time,” she ruminated. “Goin’ yonder to Susan cook shop. Den comin’ hyuh wid a lie in ’is mouf, ’bout Mr. Amos keepin’ ’im late.” “Mens is mens, Lethe,” Lizzie consoled her. “An’ you think Felo gotta be diffunt from de res’ dese niggers, jes’ because he bin livin’ to Mr. Amos house so long an’ know somh’n ’bout w’ite-folks ways?.... Who? It sho goin’ take a better man den ole ’ceitful Felo to keep me from havin’ my pleasure, w’en de worl’ so big an’ handy to play ’roun’ in.... Git up from hyuh, Lethe; an’ rub dem wrinkles out yo’ face, an’ leave us go up yonder an’ sing ove’ Aun’ Milly.... Come on. Dey done start “Po’ Li’l Jesus,” an’ ’twon’ be long befo’ de whole buildin’ be rockin’.... Come on, lessus go.” Lethe looked at her dejectedly. “Go ’head, an’ sing much as you please,” she said, “I’m goin’ home.” And as Lizzie left her, she walked out. However inconsistent Felo’s ideas of theology might appear, there were three important purposes he endeavored to live up to with a sincerity that became him nobly. Three purposes he took great pleasure in making known at all times: “To hol’ a high head an’ keep a good name ’munks de cullud folks”; “to stick close to Mr. Amos, and look aft’ his welfare long’s he staid single”; and, “to hol’ cov’nan wid Gawd an’ serve Jesus long as I got my good sense.” The first of these, interpreted by many of his unsympathetic friends as a sort of unseemly arrogance, which they called his “biggidy ways,” won for him the name of “w’ite-folks nigger.” While the second brought him the assurance of a permanent home, and fixed his standing as a member of the household, a sort of heir by annexation;—“joint arran’ de fam’ly,” as he called it. As he and Mr. Amos had been playmates from early childhood, his connection in reality was more like that of a faithful friend, than the position of a common servant without rights and privileges. And to keep faith with Mr. Amos and hold his confidence and lasting respect, was next to keeping his covenant with God.