"Come out of the shadow there where I can see you."
"I mos' fear'd, Miss Kitty."
"What is your name?"
"Dey calls me Blue Dave, ma'am."
The tone of the voice was something more than humble. There was an appeal in it for mercy. Kitty Kendrick recognised this; but in spite of it she could scarcely resist an impulse to rush into the house, lock the door, and take steps to rouse the whole plantation. By a great effort she did resist it, and the negro went on:—
"Please, ma'am, don't be skeer'd er me, Miss Kitty. De Lord years me w'en I say it, dey ain't a ha'r er yo' head dat I'd hurt, dat dey ain't. I ain't bad like dey make out I is, Miss Kitty. Dey tells some mighty big tales, but dey makes um up dey se'f. Manys en manys de time is I seed you w'en you gwine atter sweet-gum en w'en you huntin' flowers, en I allers say ter myse'f, I did, 'Nobody better not pester Miss Kitty w'iles Blue Dave anywhars 'roun'.' Miss Kitty, I 'clar' 'fo' de Lord I ain't no bad nigger," Blue Dave continued in a tone of the most emphatic entreaty. "You des ax yo' little br'er. Little Mars. Felix, he knows I ain't no bad nigger."
"Why don't you go home, instead of hiding out in the woods?" said Kitty, striving to speak in a properly indignant tone.
"Bless yo' soul, Miss Kitty, hit ain't no home fer me," said Blue Dave, sadly. "Hit mought be a home fer some niggers, but hit ain't no home fer me. I year somebody comin'. Good-bye, Miss Kitty; don't fergit 'bout Mars. George."
As noiselessly as the wind that faintly stirs the grass, Blue Dave glided away in the darkness, leaving Kitty Kendrick standing upon the veranda half frightened and wholly puzzled. Her little brother Felix came out to see where she had gone. Felix was eight years old, and had views of his own.
"Sister Kit, what are you doing? Watching for Mr. George to go by?"