"Mammy said that when they brought her young mistis back home the General went off in a fit, and raved and cursed till the doctors and the rest of ’em had to hold him to keep him from killing somebody. Mammy was one of her old mistis’s house-girls, and she heard all the General’s ravings and screams that he would kill every nigger on the place; and he kept it up so long and kept breaking out again so after they thought they had him pacified that mammy said she was scared so bad she just couldn’t stay there any longer: and that’s what made her run away the very next night. She had a hard time getting across the river, but after she got over safe she didn’t have much trouble, for some of the white people took charge of her and helped her to get further on north. Pappy always said—" "Oh, Lord, that’s enough!" the son broke in, raising his head out of his hands, and interrupting his mother’s flow of words, of which he had noted little since hearing the tragic story of his savage great-grandfather. He rose from his chair impatiently. "So I am Hayward Graham, son of Patricia Schmidt, daughter of Cindy—nothing, daughter of Gumbo—nothing." "Guinea Gumbo," corrected his mother. "Oh, I beg my distinguished ancestor’s pardon for presuming to credit him with only one name. A gentleman with his record ought to have as many as Kaiser Bill," drawled Graham sarcastically. Then with better humour he said to his mother, "And will you please to inform me from which of your ancestors you inherited that name of Patricia?" "Mammy named me that for her old mistis." * * * * * Graham stood for awhile looking at the blank wall. Then he spoke as if he had settled his problem. "Yes I’m a negro—no doubt about that; and a negro I’ll be from to-morrow morning." "Why, honey, you are not going to lower yourself to—" "No, no. I’m not going to lower myself to anything; but I’m going to go with my own crowd, where I’ll not be insulted by people who are no better than I am. I got along very well at college, but these people here are different. I’ll show ’em. I’ll go to the war, and I’ll get as much glory out of it as any of ’em. My father was a soldier, and his father died in battle: I rather guess I can’t stay out of it. Good night, mummer." And he took himself off to bed. *CHAPTER III*