"I do' see huccome you got any right to be a-pryin' into dese hyeah things." "I's got de same right I had to w'ok an' struggle erlong an' he'p you get whut we's done los'." Jerry winced and ended by telling her all. "Dat ain't nuffin' but owdacious robbery," said Cindy Ann. "Dem people sees dat you got a little some'p'n, an' dey ain't gwine stop ontwell dey's bu'nt an' stoled evah blessed cent f'om you. Je'miah, don't you have nuffin' mo' to do wid 'em." "I got to, Cindy Ann." "Whut fu' you got to?" "How I gwine buil' a cabin an' a ba'n an' buy a mule less'n I deal wid 'em?" "Dah's Mas' Sam Brabant. He'd he'p you out." Jerry rose up, his eyes flashing fire. "Cindy Ann," he said, "you a fool, you ain't got no mo' pride den a guinea hen, an' you got a heap less sense. W'y, befo' I go to ol' Mas' Sam Brabant fu' a cent, I'd sta've out in de road." "Huh!" said Cindy Ann, shutting her mouth on her impatience. One gets tired of thinking and saying how much more sense a woman has than a man when she comes in where his sense stops and his pride begins. With the recklessness of despair Jerry slept late that next morning, but he might have awakened early without spoiling his wife's plans. She was up betimes, had gone on her mission and returned before her spouse awoke. It was about ten o'clock when Brabant came to see him. Jerry grew sullen at once as his master approached, but his pride stiffened. This white man should see that misfortune could not weaken him. "Well, Jerry," said his former master, "you would not come to me, eh, so I must come to you. You let a little remark of mine keep you from your best friend, and put you in the way of losing the labour of years." Jerry made no answer. "You've proved yourself able to work well, but Jerry," pausing, "you haven't yet shown that you're able to take care of yourself, you don't know how to keep your mouth shut." The ex-slave tried to prove this a lie by negative pantomime. "I'm going to lend you the money to start again." "I won't----" "Yes, you will, if you don't, I'll lend it to Cindy Ann, and let her build in her own name. She's got more sense than you, and she knows how to keep still when things go well." "Mas' Sam," cried Jerry, rising quickly, "don' len' dat money to Cindy Ann. W'y ef a ooman's got anything she nevah lets you hyeah de las' of it." "Will you take it, then?" "Yes, suh; yes, suh, an' thank 'e, Mas' Sam." There were sobs some place back in his throat. "An' nex' time ef I evah gets a sta't agin, I'll keep my mouf shet. Fac' is, I'll come to you, Mas' Sam, an' borry fu' de sake o' hidin'." _Eleven_ THE TRIUMPH OF OL' MIS' PEASE Between the two women, the feud began in this way: When Ann Pease divorced her handsome but profligate spouse, William, Nancy Rogers had, with reprehensible haste, taken him for better or for worse. Of course, it proved for worse, but Ann Pease had never forgiven her.