"Mr. Holton didn't come, too, did he?"
"No; he didn't come wid us, suh; but he met us dar down by de railroad. Wasn't lookin' for him, an' I guess he wasn't lookin', jus' exactly, to see us. But he was dar an' now he's jus' a membuh of ouah pahty, suh, as good as Cunnel Doolittle. Hit don't seem right to me, suh; no suh, hit don't seem right to me."
"Why, Neb!"
"An' dat Miss Barbara! She was dead sot to see you, an' Miss 'Lethe was compelled to ax her fo' to come along. She didn't mean to, fust off; no suh. But she had to, in de end. Den I war plumb beat when I saw Mister Holton stalkin' up dat platfohm like he owned it an' de railroad an' de hills, and de hull yearth. But he's bettuh heah dan down at home, Marse Frank. He don't belong down in de bluegrass."
"I'm afraid you are impertinent, Neb. Don't meddle. You always have been prejudiced against Barbara and her father."
The old negro answered quickly, bitterly. "I ain't likely to fuhgit," said he, "dat de only blow dat evuh fell upon my back was from his han'! I guess you rickollick as well as I do. He cotch me coon-huntin' on his place an' strung me up. He'd jes' skinned me dar alive if you-all hadn't heered my holler in' an' run in."
Layson was uneasy at the turn the talk had taken. "That was years ago, Neb," he expostulated.
"Don't seem yeahs ago to me, suh. Huh! De only blow dat evuh fell upon my back! But yo' snatched dat whip out of his ban' an' den yo' laid it, with ev'y ounce of stren'th war in yo', right acrost his face!"
Layson, unwilling to be harsh with the old man and forbid him to say more, ostentatiously busied himself, now, about the table with the frying-pan and other dishes, hoping, thus, to discourage further talk of this sort.
"No, suh," Neb went on with shaking head, "I jus' nachelly don' like him. Don't like either of 'em. An' he, Marse Frank, he nevuh will fuhgit dat blow, an' don't you think he will!"