“Well, father, I think if I were in your place I would let that negro go to the roads. The ball and chain might improve him. He has given you no end of trouble and cost you some money; let him take his medicine.”
“I don’t know about that, Harry; your mother and I have decided to stand by him once more. He is a mighty good boy about the place and we have implicit confidence in him.”
“Yes, but he is forever fighting and getting in court. Let him go!”
“Well, son, his daddy, Old John, was a good darkey, and your grandfather would not like it if we were to let one of his old carriage driver’s boys go to prison if we could help it.
“I know Jim is pretty bad about fighting negroes, but he is a good hand, and we get on well with him.”
“How many negro meetings has he broken up since you hired him?”
“I don’t know exactly, but would say four or five. He has a sort of mania for that. He is always polite to us and never complains when asked to do extra work. We call on him to go errands at all hours of the day or night, and he goes cheerfully. I do not see how we could get on without him; he milks the cows if the cook is sick, cuts the stove-wood and carries it in, churns if there is nobody else to do it, feeds and curries the horses, helps your mother to make preserves, or pickles, or put up the fruit, and drives the carriage to church on Sunday.
“Yet, Harry, if I had not known John and Mary, his parents, I might let him go without putting up a fight for him, but his daddy or mammy would have done anything for your mother, and your grandfather would turn over in his grave if he could know that I had not done my duty toward Jim.
“I don’t know how serious this last affair is, but I will employ a lawyer and fight it out.”