Last fall Shin and Whiffle drove Rattlesnake out to the fairground and entered a two-year-old negro boy in the Better Babies’ contest. Colonel Tom Gaitskill had offered handsome prizes in this contest and was in charge.
“This is your son, Shin?” Gaitskill smiled as he entered the piccaninny’s name and age in a large book.
“Yes, suh.”
“I presume it is a eugenic, hygienic baby?” Gaitskill laughed.
“Yes, suh,” Shin replied, wondering at the same time what Gaitskill meant. “Yes, suh. He gits de you-jeans from his maw an’ de high-jeans from his paw. He’s a shore winner!”
Hoodoo Face.
I
THE STRANGER.
Dinner Gaze bore the air of a man who was perfectly satisfied with his personal appearance and sure of making a good impression upon all who beheld him.
He leaned back in his seat in the negro coach of the New Orleans accommodation, using the seat in front of him as a footstool. His legs were crossed with a display of glorious silk hosiery, his thumbs were anchored in the armholes of his gold and purple vest, his bright green cravat contained a bright yellow diamond, and his cigarette-stained fingers beat a happy tattoo upon the bosom of his shirt.