“Mama dear, you mustn’t cry any more!” “I can’t help it, darling.” “They can’t take our home away from us. I tore the sign down they nailed on the door, and Dick burned it up!” “But they will do it, Charlie. The Sheriff will sell it at auction next week, and we will never have a home of our own again.” Charlie bounded to the door and showed the Preacher in. “I have good news for you, Mrs. Gaston! I start to Boston to-night to preach two Sundays. I am going to try to borrow the money there to save your home. We will not be too sure till it’s done, but you must cheer up!” “Oh! doctor, you’re giving me a new lease on life!” she cried, looking up at him through tears of gratitude. That night the Preacher hurried on his way to Boston. The days dragged slowly one after another, and still no word came to the anxious waiting woman. It was only two days now until the day fixed for the sale. She asked the Sheriff to come to see her. He was a brutal illiterate henchman of Legree, who had been appointed to the office to do his bidding. He was a brother of the immortal “Hog” Scoggins, who had represented an adjoining county in the Legislature. “Mr. Scoggins, I’ve sent for you to ask you to postpone the sale until Dr. Durham returns from Boston. I expect to get the money from him to pay the tax bill.” “Can’t do it, M’um. They’s er lot er folks comin’ ter bid on the place.” “But I tell you I’m going to pay the tax bill.” “Well, M’um, hit’ll have ter be paid afore the time sot, er I’ll be erbleeged to sell.” “I’m sure Dr. Durham will get the money.” “Ef he does, hit ’ll be the fust time hit’s happened in this county sence the sales begun.” In vain she waited for a letter or a telegram from Boston. Charlie went faithfully asking Dave Haley, the postmaster, two or three times on the arrival of each mail. “I tell ye there’s nothin’ fur ye!” he yelled as he glared at the boy. “Ef ye don’t go way from that winder, I’ll pitch ye out the door!” The scoundrel had recognised the letter in Dr. Durham’s handwriting and had hidden it, suspecting its contents. When the day came for the sale Mrs. Gaston tried to face the trial bravely. But it was too much for her. When she saw a great herd of negroes trampling down her flowers, laughing, cracking vulgar jokes, and swarming over the porches, she sank feebly into her chair, buried her face in her hands and gave way to a passionate flood of tears. She was roused by the thumping of heavy feet in the hall, and the unmistakable odour of perspiring negroes. They had begun to ransack the house on tours of inspection. The poor woman’s head drooped and she fell to the floor in a dead swoon. There was a sudden charge as of an armed host, the sound of blows, a wild scramble, and the house was cleared. Aunt Eve with a fire shovel, Charlie with a broken hoe handle, and Dick with a big black snake whip had cleared the air. Aunt Eve stood on the front door-step shaking the shovel at the crowd.