"'Polyte," she said, "you are what people call a bad man. You have been bleeding my trees, and I don't know what all. Why don't you behave?"
The man kicked at a tuft of moss.
"Nobody won't hire me, Miss Calline. Ise done been in de chain-gang too often. Nobody won' trus' me!"
"Well, if I will trust you, for the sake of your dead mother, will you be good and faithful to me?"
The man's face lighted up. He took a step toward her.
"Will I? Miss Calline, on'y jes' try me! I kin do anyt'in'!"
"I believe you. Well, I'm going to try you. I want you to be my--well, my body-servant. To go everywhere I go and take care of me--so--I--won't--be--frightened--again. Will you?"
The man's eyes wavered in momentary terror. But he kept his head.
"On'y jes' try me!"
"I'm going to. But you must have a horse to ride. Look out for a good one, and one for me, too. You must get me, 'Polyte, the best saddle-horse in South Carolina!"