“You wants me to git de dorctor, Miss Virginny?” Skeeter asked.
“No. That will be all for you, thank you.”
When Skeeter stepped out upon the road beside the house, he noticed Colonel Gaitskill out in the horse-pasture, walking around in a circle defined by a clump of grass, his eyes glued upon the ground as if he was hunting for something.
“Have you done loss somepin, Marse Tom?” Skeeter inquired as he walked to where he was.
“Yes. I had a pipe that I have smoked for twenty years. I threw it out in these weeds this morning and bought a new pipe. But the new pipe is an abomination. I’m looking for the old one.”
“I think young Marse Org is got dat ole one,” Skeeter laughed. “Miss Virginny jes’ now tuck it offen him an’ lef’ it on de front porch.”
Gaitskill stooped and broke off the stem of a weed. He stripped the leaves from the straight stem, crushed them, and sniffed at the peculiar, sweetish, tobacco odor.
Skeeter caught the scent, reeled backward, clutched at his throat, grabbed a convenient tree and began to heave!
XI
AT AUCTION
When Skeeter Butts informed Mustard Prophet that his coveted rabbit-foot was in the Gaitskill home, Mustard nearly went into hysterics.