He had known that Laurie Meredith and Flower Fielding were lovers, and he had guessed that Jewel was jealous, when she bribed him so heavily to give her that important letter and to take back the answer she sent. In his eagerness to possess himself of her costly bribe he had not counted the cost of his treachery to the lovers. Now he began to experience a sneaking consciousness that his guilt had somehow helped to pave the way to that trouble in yonder.
He wondered what had become of Laurie Meredith, that his pretty sweetheart had been forced to seek refuge in a deserted negro cabin in her sore distress and trouble, and so wondering, he fell asleep in his chair, and remained there until morning, snoring profoundly, and oblivious to everything.
When he opened his eyes again the broad sunlight of new day was shining in through the open door, and the song of birds was in the air.
Poky's trunk had come up, and she was down on her knees unpacking it, and softly humming a revival song.
Sam's neck, which had been hanging over on his breast, felt as if it was half broken. He straightened up and gaped so loudly that his wife turned around and began to rate him soundly for sleeping in his chair all night, declaring that she had nearly shaken him to pieces without being able to rouse him, so had retired, leaving him to the enjoyment of his arm-chair.
Sam did not doubt the assertion, knowing himself to be a very heavy sleeper. He sat still a little while collecting his wits, and then said:
"Yes, I remember it all now, Poky. I fell to sleep while you was in de comp'ny with Miss Flower an' de baby."
"Wha-at?" Poky exclaimed, and he repeated his words, only to be laughed at by his wife, who declared that he must have been dreaming, as she did not know what he meant in the least.