The white man stood bowed for a moment; then, straightening up, he threw his head back. “I’ll take it, Nelse; but you shall have every cent back, even if I have to sell my body to a medical college and use a gun to deliver the goods! Good-bye, Nelse, God bless you! good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Mas’ Tom, but don’t talk that way; go home. The South is changed, an’ you’ll find somethin’ to suit you. Go home—go home; an’ ef there’s any of the folks a-livin’, give ’em my love, Mas’ Tom—give ’em my love—good-bye—good-bye!”
The Negro leaned over the proffered hand, and his tears dropped upon it. His master passed out, and he sat with his head bowed in his hands.
After a long while Eliza came creeping in.
“Wha’ ’d you do to him, Nelse—wha’ ’d you do to him?” There was no answer. “Lawd, I hope you ain’t killed him,” she said, looking fearfully around. “I don’t see no blood.”
“I ain’t killed him,” said Nelse. “I sent him home—back to the ol’ place.”
“You sent him home! how’d you send him, huh?”
“I give him my Sunday suit and that money—don’t git mad, ’Lizy, don’t git mad—that money I was savin’ for your cloak. I couldn’t help it, to save my life. He’s goin’ back home among my people, an’ I sent ’em my love. Don’t git mad an’ I’ll git you a cloak anyhow.”
“Pleggone the cloak!” said Mrs. Hatton, suddenly, all the woman in her rising in her eyes. “I was so ’fraid you’d take my advice an’ do somethin’ wrong. Ef you’re happy, Nelse, I am too. I don’t grudge your master nothin’—the ol’ devil! But you’re jes’ a good-natured, big-hearted, weak-headed ol’ fool!” And she took his head in her arms.