Still the old negro was silent.
“Frank,” said Mr. Willing, “did you put the painted bit in Gabriel’s stall?”
The old negro nodded.
“Yessah.”
He turned his head and sobbed.
“Don’t question him any more, Dad,” said Shirley, also with tears in her eyes. “It is enough that we know Jimmy is innocent. Let him die in peace.”
Suddenly Frank half rose in the bed, and a fit of coughing shook him.
“The end is near,” said Mr. Willing quietly. “The doctor will be too late.”
The old negro drew himself up high in the bed, and gazed at Mr. Willing. Then, slowly, hesitatingly, he extended an old and wrinkled hand.
“Good-bye, suh,” he said, in a low voice. “I’se sorry.”