"Now, looky heah, honey; yo' ain't gwine t' take on so, is you? Yo' oughter be tickled inter a keniption fit, yo' ought, 'stead of actin' up. Why, honey, jist give praise to de good Lord dat yo' at las' got de chanst! Yo'll cum back home powerful smart an' edicated, like my missus wus 'fore de war. "An' when a li'le gal gits edication, she naturally gits purttier; an' if yo' gits purttier dan yo' is now--why, honey, yo'll shore cum back er angel! Now, doan be pesticatin'. Smile up, smile up! Gwine t' school ain't gwine t' kill nobudy." As Slab concluded these cheering words, he poised his banjo again and as his lips parted the girl stopped him with a gesture. "Slab, air thes my heart heah--right heah?" she queried, pressing a hand upon her breast. "Sho', honey!" Slab assured her testily, striving to disguise his own impatience. "Now, tell me why yo' ax dat--jist tell Slab what fer yo' ax sich er sorry question noways?" "Slab, I 'low my heart'll burst in two when I got t' go 'way!" she returned unsteadily, her black-fringed lids blinking bravely to keep back the mist that would creep across the violet of her eyes. Slab gazed at her speechless, and heaved a hopeless sigh. Tenderly, Belle-Ann lifted the blind hound's reluctant head from her lap, stepped nearer to the old negro, and held a profound, exacting finger close to his face. "Slab, will yo' promise me somethin'? I kin trust yo'-all, Slab, ef yo' promise ag'inst the witch. Will yo' promise Belle-Ann somethin', Slab?" urged the girl, and her sweet bell-voice fell subdued and imploring. Slab's mouth opened slowly and he hesitated. He would have died for Belle-Ann; but he was much opposed to dragging in the witch, because he feared to make his sacred witch a party to any contract that carried the slightest chance of rupture, and thereby hold him to eternal reprisal. "Will yo' promise thes, Slab?" the girl urged solemnly. "Air yo' sho' I kin do it, honey?" he probed, loose-lipped and with eyes that rolled wider. "Sho' yo' kin!" "Ez yo' say I kin do it, me promises," he assented dubiously. "Cross yo' heart on th' witch-block!" she demanded. He solemnized the pledge with a gnarled and bony hand, and the girl's eyes welled full and her throat pained. "Slab, yo' must promise to be good to ol' Ben heah--feed em an' bed em reg'lar, but don't give em no cracklin's. An', Slab, yo' must promise to pick the flowers every Sabbath, jest like I alers do--yo' knows the ones well's I do--pertic'lar th' for-get-me-nots over yon by th' grind-stone. Yo' must pick 'em in th' mornin' early, Slab--every Sabbath--an' put 'em on Maw Lutts's grave. Will yo' fergit?" A deep breath relieved Slab's tenseness as he agreed effusively. "Lord, goodness! Yo' jist leave it t' Slab, honey! He do dat ebry single Sabbaf!"