At the carriage gate at home he found old Lewis standing ready to take his horse. “Hello!” Carson said, with a joke that was foreign to his mood; “when did Major Warren discharge you?” “Hain't discharge me yit, young marster,” Lewis smiled, in delight, as he opened the gate and reached out for the bridle. “I knowed you'd be along soon, en so I waited fer you. Marse Carson, Linda powerful anxious ter see you. She settin' on yo'-all's veranda-step now; she been axin' is you got back all evenin'. Dar she come now, young marster. I'll put up yo' horse.” “All right, Uncle Lewis,” and Dwight, seeing the old woman shambling towards him, went across the lawn and met her. “Oh, young marster, I been waitin' fer you,” she said. “I got some'n' ter ax you, suh.” “What is it?” he asked: “If it is anything I can do I'll be glad to help you.” “I don't like ter bother you, young marster,” Linda said, plaintively; “but somehow it don't seem lak anybody know what ter do. I went ter young miss, en she said fer me ter see you--dat you was de onliest one ter decide. Marse Carson, of course you done heard dat man Willis done killed hisse'f, ain't you?” “Oh yes, Mam' Linda--oh yes!” Dwight said, his voice holding an odd, submerged quality. “Well, young marster, you see, me'n Lewis thought dat, bein' as dat man was de ringleader, en de only one left on de rampage after my boy, dat, now he's daid, I might sen' ter Chattanoogy fer Pete en let 'im come on home.” “Why, I thought he was doing well up there?” Carson said again, in a tone which to himself sounded as expressionless as if spoken only from the lips. “Dat so; dat so, too,” Linda sighed; “but, Marse Carson, he de onliest child I got en I wants 'im wid me. I wants 'im whar I kin see 'im en try ter 'fluence 'im ter do what's right. In er big place lak Chattanoogy he may git in mo' trouble, en--” She went no further, her voice growing tremulous and finally failing. “Well, send for him, by all means,” Dwight said. “He'll be all right here. We'll find something for him to do.” “En, en--dar won't be no mo' trouble?” Linda faltered. “None in the world now, mammy,” he replied. “The people all over the country are thoroughly satisfied that he's innocent. No one will even appear against him. He is all right now.” Tears welled up in Linda's eyes and she wiped them off on her apron. “Thank God, young marster; one time I thought I never would want ter live another minute, en yit right now--right now I'm de happiest woman in de whole world, en you done it, young marster. You stood up fer er po' old nigger 'oman when de world was turn agin 'er, en God on high know I bless you. I bless you in every prayer I sen' up.” He turned from her as she stood wiping her eyes and went on to his mother's room, finding her, to his delight, sitting up in an easy-chair near the table on which stood a lamp and a book she had been reading.