"Yes, 'tis, Miss Edie," said Hannibal, despondently, "I'se know 'tis. I'se black outside, and I allers kinder feel dat I'se more black inside. Neber felt jes right here yet, Miss Edie," said the old man, laying his hand on his breast. "I come de nighest to't de toder day when you said you lubbed me. Dat seemed to go down deep, but not quite to whar de trouble stays all de time. "But, Miss Edie," continued he in a whisper, "I'se hope you'll forgive me, but I couldn't help listenin' to you last night. I neber heerd such talk afore. It seemed to broke my ole black heart all up, and made it feel like de big ribers down souf in de spring, when dey jes oberflow eberyting. I says to myself, dat's de Friend Miss Edie say she's gwine to tell me 'bout. And now, Miss Edie, would you mind tellin' me little 'bout Him? Cause if He's your Friend, I'd t'ink a heap of Him, too. Not dat I specs He's gwine to bodder wid dis ole niggah, but den I'd jes like to hear 'bout Him a little." Edith laid down her work, and turned her glorious dark eyes, brimming over with sympathy, on the poor old fellow, as he stood in the doorway fairly trembling with the excess of his feeling. "Come and sit down here by me," she said. "Oh, Miss Edie, I'se isn't--" "No words--come." Hannibal crouched down on a divan near. "What makes you think He wouldn't bother with you?" "Well, I'se don't know 'zactly, Miss Edie. I'se only Hannibal." "Hannibal," said Edith, earnestly, "you are the best man I know in all the world." "Oh, Lor bless you, Miss Edie, how you talk! you'se jes done gone crazy." "No I haven't. I never spoke in more sober earnest. You are faithful and true, unselfish and patient, and abound in the best material of which men are made. I admit," she added, with a twinkle in her eye, "that one very common element of manhood, as I have observed it, is dreadfully lacking, that is conceit. I wish I were as good as you are, Hannibal."