"It is that-away!" blandly remarked Mr. Sanders. "An' more especially it's a scandal when me an' that child thar can't have five minnits' fun all by ourselves but what you come a-stickin' your head in the door, an' try for to turn a somerset wi'out liftin' your feet off'n the floor! I leave it to Gus Tidwell thar ef anybody in this house has cut up more capers than what you have. I wish you could 'a' seed yourself when you was flinging your hat on the floor, an' tryin' for to keep your feet in a slanchindic'lar position, an' workin' an' twistin' your mouth like you was tryin' for to git it on top of your head—ef you could 'a' seed all that you'd agree wi' me that thar wa'n't no room in this house for youth an' innocence."
Adelaide took advantage of the conversation to run out of the room to see if Cally-Lou had been frightened by all the noise; and presently the men heard her relating all the circumstances to her brown Ariel, and laughing almost as heartily at her own recital as she laughed when Mr. Sanders winked at her with the red handkerchief on his head.
"Who is she talking to?" Lawyer Tidwell inquired.
"Just talking to herself," responded old Jonas, with unnecessary tartness.
"Don't you nigh believe it, Gus," said Mr. Sanders. "She ain't twins, an' she's talkin' to some un that she can see an' we can't. Why, ef thar wa'n't nothin' thar, she'd be the finest play-actor that ever played in a county courthouse."
"She is certainly a wonderful child," said the lawyer. "Lucindy brought her to see my wife the other day, and I happened to be at home. I never enjoyed anybody's company so well on a short acquaintance as I did hers. My wife is daft about her, and she believes with you, Mr. Sanders, that the Cally-Lou she talks about so much is really her companion."
"Why, tooby shore, Gus. Children see an' know a heap things that they don' say nothin' about for fear they'll be laughed at. All you've got to do to see Cally-Lou is turn your head quick enough. I ain't limber enough myself, an' I reckon I never will be any more."
"Speaking of Lucindy, Mr. Sanders, I wanted to see you about some little business of hers, and it's business that she doesn't know anything about. Moreover, she wouldn't help matters much if she knew about it. I don't know how Mr. Whipple feels, but I know very well how you and I feel. You don't need to be told that nearly all the negroes have fallen out of sympathy with the whites; but there are a few we can still trust and have a genuine friendship for—and Lucindy is one of them. Now, I was sitting in my office to-day reading, when all of a sudden I heard someone talking in low tones. I didn't hear everything that was said, but I heard enough to learn that Lucindy's son Randall is somewhere in the county."
"He shorely is for a fact!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Right in the state, county, town, an' deestrick aforesaid. Go on, Gus."
"Well you know, he's the boy that came within an ace of putting old Tuttle out of business in 1864. But now old Tuttle is the Radical Ordinary, elected by the niggers, and he is afraid to bring suit against Randall in the Superior Court. But he wants the boy put out of business if it can be done without mixing his name with the affair. I couldn't overhear all that was said, but I heard enough to know that old Tuttle intends to have Randall arrested on a charge of assault with intent to murder, and run him out of the county. Now, I wouldn't care a snap of my finger if it wasn't for the fact that Randall is Lucindy's son, and he must be taken care of. I don't know how you gentlemen feel about it, but that's the way I feel."