"He—he—he—" chuckled the old servant. "A brunette, he—he. That air's yo Liz, ol' 'oman, yo' sho brunette. Yes sah, 'pon my word, Mars Harry, I believe yo'. He—he—"
And the black woman's deep voice rolled out—"Yo' go on now—yo' two, 'tain't so—'cause Adam he sho po'r white trash. Ain't no decent colored body goin' to have no truck wid sech as him."
With the doctor's shoes in his hand the old servant stood up, "Anythin' else, sah? No? Good night, sah! Good night, Mars Harry!" They slipped noiselessly from the room.
Is there, after all, anything more beautiful in life than the ministry of such humble ones, whose service is the only expression of their love?
Many of the Master's truths have been shamefully neglected by those into whose hands they were committed. Many of His grandest lessons are ignored by His disciples, who ambitious for place and power—quarrel among themselves. Many of His noblest laws have been twisted out of all resemblance to His spirit by those who interpret them to meet the demands of their own particular sects and systems. But of all the truths the Master has given to men, none, perhaps, has been more neglected, or abused than the simple truth He illustrated so vividly when He washed His disciples' feet.
Left alone Dr. Harry picked up one magazine after another, only to turn the leaves impatiently and—after a moment—toss them aside. He glanced at his medical journal and found it dull. He took up his book only to lay it down again. Decidedly he could not read. The house with its empty rooms was so big and still. He seated himself at his piano but had scarcely touched the keys, when he rose again to go to the window.
"After all," he thought, "it would have been better to have gone to prayer meeting. I am not fit to be alone tonight. If I could only go to bed and sleep, but I feel as if I had forgotten how. Those Masons certainly got on my nerves." Indeed, the strain was plainly visible, for his face was worn and haggard. In his ears poor Jo's prayer was ringing, "Do somethin' Doc! My God Almighty, you jest got to do somethin'!"
Turning from the window the doctor's eyes fell on his medicine case, which Uncle George had brought in from the buggy and placed near the hall door.
"Why not?" he thought.
Picking up the case he went to the table, where he opened it hesitatingly.