CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Silas Tomlin Scents Trouble
One day—it was a warm Saturday, giving promise of a long hot Sunday to follow—Mr. Sanders was on his way home, feeling very blue indeed. He had been to town on no particular business—the day was a half-holiday with the field-hands—and he had wandered about aimlessly, making several unsuccessful efforts to crack a joke or two with such acquaintances as he chanced to meet. He had concluded that his liver was out of order, and he wondered, as he went along, if he would create much public comment and dissatisfaction if he should break his promise to Nan Dorrington by purchasing a jug of liquor and crawling into the nearest shuck-pen. It was on this warm Saturday, the least promising of all days, as he thought, that he stumbled upon an adventure which, for a season, proved to be both interesting and amusing.
He was walking along, as has been said, feeling very blue and uncomfortable, when he heard his name called, and, turning around, saw a negro girl running after him. She came up panting and grinning.
"Miss Ritta say she wish you'd come dar right now," said the girl. "I been runnin' an' hollin atter you tell I wuz fear'd de dogs 'd take atter me. Miss Ritta say she want to see you right now."
The girl was small and very slim, bare-legged and good-humoured. Mr. Sanders looked at her hard, but failed to recognise her; nor had he the faintest idea as to the identity of "Miss Ritta." The girl bore his scrutiny very well, betraying a tendency to dance. As Mr. Sanders tried in vain to place her in his memory, she slapped her hands together, and whirled quickly on her heel more than once.
"You're a way yander ahead of me," he remarked, after reflecting awhile. "I reckon I've slipped a cog some'rs in my machinery. What is your name?"
"I'm name Larceeny. Don't you know me, Marse Billy? I use ter b'long ter de Clopton Cadets, when Miss Nan was de Captain; but I wan't ez big den ez I is now. I been knowin' you most sence I was born."
"What is your mammy's name?"