“I do not think he intended to stay away always. Massa Paul, you are just like your fodder in every respect. You just look and act like him. Your fodder was a British soldier and when he went to Boston with the regiment your mother saw him and just fell in lub wid him ober head and ears. Well, he was a baronet’s son and she a beautiful lady wid lots of money—as your fodder supposed. Well, he was deceived, and Missus just let him think what he might. I does not think your fodder lubber your mudder very much; and your mother—beautiful and rich—he thought so—he just married her for she loved him fondly; but she had such a temper and did not care what she said when mad. Well, in their last quarrel she just up and told him she wished he would go away, as she wished nebber to see his face any more, and he just up and went away. But I always thought he would come back. Wid de money out de army he bought dis big farm and bringed Missus to lib wid him here, and all Missus’ fodder had to gib her was me and my ole woman. Just before he left he went and deeded de farm to Missus, free from all incumbrance, and told me to take care of you. Dat is all I knows about your fodder. “Your mudder neber was de same woman as before; she would not quarrel wid anyone, and was just as docile as a lamb. If she had been so when Massa was here he never would hab went away. I’s sure ob dat, as he cried like a great baby when he bid me goodbye. Now, Massa Paul, let me get de ole tin box an see what is in it. May be dar is something in it you would like to see. Come, Massa, is you dreaming?” exclaimed Pompey, seeing Paul sitting like a statue, gazing absent-mindedly before him into the deep shadows of the room. “My dear man,” answered Paul, extending his hand to his servant, “I see clearly why mother always avoided telling me anything about my father, as she knew she had done wrong and was afraid to lose my respect, as she knew I dearly loved her. “Pompey,” said Paul solemnly, “she was a kind and loving mother to me.” “Yes, Paul, I’s seed her sit and cry ober your little curly head many a time and say, ‘I love my baby and I will never let him see my temper;’ and I guess she never did. Shall we get de box tonight, or leave it until morning? Den you can see to read better,” said Pompey, getting up and yawning. “We had better get it tonight, as I do not wish to let everybody know what there is in the box,” answered Paul, getting up and taking the candle and opening the library door. They went up stairs and out into a little hall leading to the garret, Pompey leading the way. “Gosh, Massa, I just guess there has been nobody up here in a long time, as de cobwebs are so thick I can just cut them down. Golly, Massa, what a hole to put treasures away in,” said Pompey, pulling the cobwebs out of his woolly hair.