The stage took a splendid sweep, that nearly broke Tom's heart with envy, then swung down the sand banks across the bridge and away.
Paul leaned from a window, and wildly flung kisses back to his friends. Jube shaded his eyes with one hand, but tears dropped heavy and thick from under it, while Tom jumped out of his wagon, and ran after the doctor.
"Doctor, I say, you jest listen to reason. That ere nigger is breaking his consarned black heart 'cause you amongst you wont let him go with Paul. It's a burning shame of you, doctor; he'll jest pine away into a consumption; and that'll be what you have done."
"Why, Tom, what is all this about? I haven't kept your snowball; he can roll where he pleases for any thing I care about it."
"And you didn't set the widder up to this, doctor?"
"Set her up to it?—no."
"Doctor, give us your hand. I ought to have known better. If ever there was a chap that I look up to he isn't far off from this 'dentical hoss. If you'd gin orders for cuff to stay, stay he should, right or wrong; but if it's only a specimen of woman's work, then Jube is his own boss. A woman's a woman, and a nigger is a nigger—neither uv 'em can vote or train according to law. Then what right has one over t'other I should like to know?"
The doctor's eyes twinkled under their heavy brows.
"That is logic," he said, leading the boy on. "If women could vote, and——"
"If wimmin could vote!" exclaimed Tom, with magnificent disdain. "The idee! Who'd take care of the young ones while they trapsed about 'lection days? Well, I reckon it wouldn't be me—I've had enough of that 'ere."