"If a man vowed to the service of God may make an oath," he said, "I swear that if the day ever dawns when we stand face to face, knowing each other, I will not spare him!" The child stirred in Tom's arms and uttered its first sharp little cry, and as if in answer to the summons, Aunt Mornin opened the door. "It's all done," she said. "Gib me de chile, Mars De Willerby, and go in an' look at her." * * * * * When he entered the little square living room, Tom paused at the foot of the bed. All was straight and neat and cold. Among the few articles in the one small trunk, the woman had found a simple white dress and had put it on the dead girl. It was such a garment as almost every girl counts among her possessions. Tom remembered that his sisters had often worn such things. "She looks very pretty," he said. "I dare say her mother made it and she wore it at home. O Lord! O Lord!" And with this helpless exclamation, half sigh, half groan, he turned away and walked out of the front door into the open air. It was early morning by this time, and he passed into the dew and sunlight not knowing where he was going; but once outside, the sight of his horse tethered to a tree at the roadside brought to his mind the necessity of the occasion. "I'll ride in and see Steven," he said. "It's got to be done, and it's no work for _him_!" When he reached the Cross-roads there were already two or three early arrivals lounging on the store-porch and wondering why the doors were not opened. The first man who saw him, opened upon him the usual course of elephantine witticisms. "Look a yere, Tom," he drawled, "this ain't a-gwine to do. You a-gittin' up 'fore daybreak like the rest of us folks and ridin' off Goddlemighty knows whar. It ain't a-gwine to do now. Whar air ye from?" But as he rode up and dismounted at the porch, each saw that something unusual had happened. He tied his horse and came up the steps in silence. "Boys," he said, when he stood among them, "I want Steven. I've been out to the Hollow, and there's a job for him there. The--the woman's dead." "Dead!" they echoed, drawing nearer to him in their excitement. "When, Tom?" "Last night. Mornin's out there. There's a child." "Thunder 'n' molasses!" ejaculated the only family man of the group, reflectively. "Thunder 'n' molasses!" And then he began to edge away, still with a reflective air, towards his mule. "Boys," he explained, "there'd ought to be some women folks around. I'm gwine for Minty, and she'll start the rest on 'em. Women folks is what's needed. They kin kinder organize things whar thar's trouble." "Well," said Tom, "perhaps you're right; but don't send too many of 'em, and let your wife tell 'em to talk as little as possible and leave the man alone. He's got enough to stand up under."