“But folks mos’ giner’ly calls him Beany fo’ short,” his cousin Glory added. “And you’re a dinner-toter, too, Henry Clay?” “Not no mo’, suh,” he corrected him pridefully. “Super, he put me on when he laid gran-pappy off. Glory, she’s going to learn me.” “Well, now, that’s awfully nice of Glory, isn’t it?” “Yes, suh.” He had never seen such a solemn child. Gloriana-Virginia’s wise little face lighted swiftly at the suggestion of mirth, and M’liss’s saturnine countenance was capable of grim comedy, and the old man had a mild and toothless smile which gave him the effect of an elderly infant, but Henry Clay Bean was a study in utter sobriety. Young Mr. Parker made the face which had added materially to his childhood fame, but while Glory gave a little squealing giggle the small boy was impassive. “Was it an election bet, or do they dock you for ribald laughter, Beany?” “Yes--no, suh.” A faint frown knitted his forehead for an instant but his round eyes never left his questioner’s face. He was suddenly lifted and flung to a seat on a white shoulder. “And you know, Henry Clay, there are those who consider me a comedian?” “Yes, suh.” “Where do you suppose that young woman is, Beany, to whom we issued a royal command? Suppose we go in search for her!” He started toward the office, but the door opened and Glen stood on the threshold. “Ah, here she is, now! A little slow, but----” “I am not coming in answer to your order, Mr. Parker,” she said levelly. “I just----” “But you came,” he said indulgently, “and that is, after all----” “But I didn’t come--” she was white still, save for two dabs of furious color on her cheekbones and her eyes were almost black, but she fought hard for control. “Oh, I get you! You just came to say that you’re not coming? You will recall, however, that you offered to show me and tell me and teach me, and suggested that we make a date for this evening? Any hour which you----” “I came,” she cut into his persiflage, “because I had to tell you how I hate you and despise you----” “Why, you didn’t have to tell me that,” he said in gentle surprise. “It seems very un----” “--for what you are and what you do, and the life you live,” the words came swiftly with the beat of little hammers, “and because you are idle-born and overfed and underworked, and because----” “Help!” cried young Mr. Peter Parker feebly, putting Henry Clay Bean on the floor, and staring at her like a bewildered child, hurt but stoutly conscious of rectitude. “It’s simply a case of mistaken identity, that’s all! You’ve got me confused with somebody else. Why, I’m one of the nicest fellows you ever knew in your life. Aren’t I, Gloriana-Virginia?” “Oh, _yes_, suh!” Glory moved close to him with a positively protective attitude and lifted a reproachful look to Glen’s bitter face.