“No, I wasn't, honey. Thank de Lawd, dar is some er de right kind er white folks left. Marse Carson Dwight heard it all fum his room en come over. He raised Pete up en tuck 'im in an' laid 'im on de baid. He tuck 'im up in his arms, honey, young marster did, en set to work to bring 'im to. An' after de po' boy was easy en ersleep en de doctor gone off, Marse Carson come ter me en tuck my hand. 'Mam' Lindy,' he said, es pale as ef he'd been sick er long time, 'dis night's work has give me some'n' ter think erbout. De best white men in de Souf won't stan' fer dis. Sech things cayn't go on forever. Ef I go to de Legislature I'll see dat dey gwine ter pass laws ter pertect you faithful old folks.” “Carson said that?” Helen's voice was husky, her glance averted. “Yes, en he was dead in earnest, honey; he wasn't des talkin' ter comfort me. I know, kase I done hear suppen else dat happened since den.” “What was that?” Helen asked. “Why, dey say dat Marse Carson went straight down-town en tried ter find somebody dat was in de mob. He heard Dan Willis was among 'em--you know who he is, honey. He's er bad, desp'rate moonshine man. Well, Marse Carson spoke his mind about 'im, an' dared 'im out in de open. Unc' Lewis said Mr. Garner an' all Marse Carson's friends tried to stop 'im, kase it would go dead agin 'im in his 'lection, but Marse Carson wouldn't take back er word, en was so mad he couldn't hold in. En dat another hard thing to bear, honey,” Linda went on. “Des think, Marse Carson cayn't even try to help er po' old woman lak me widout ruinin' his own chances.” “Is it as serious as that?” Helen asked, with deep concern. “Yes, honey, he never kin win his race lessen he act diffunt. Dey say dat man Wiggin is laughin' fit ter kill hisse'f over de way he got de upper hold. I told Marse Carson des t'other day he mustn't do dat way, but he laughed in my face in de sweet way he always did have. 'Ef dey vote ergin me fer dat, Mam' Lindy,' he say, 'deir votes won't be worth much.' Marse Carson is sho got high principle, honey. His pa think he ain't worth much, but _he's_ all right. You mark my words, he's gwine ter make a gre't big man--he gwine ter do dat kase he's got er tender heart in 'im, an ain't afeard of anything dat walk on de yeath. He may lose dis one 'lection, but he'll not stop. I know young white men, thoo en thoo, en I never y it seen er better one.” [Illustration: 0067] “Have you--have you seen him recently?” Helen asked, surprised at the catch in her voice. “Oh yes, honey,” the old woman said, plaintively; “seem lak he know how I'm sufferin', en he been comin' over often en talkin' ter me'n Lewis. Seem lak he's so sad, honey, here late. Ain't you seed 'im yit, honey?” “No, he hasn't been over,” Helen replied, rather awkwardly. “He will come, though; he and I are good friends.”