"Three pockets in de ves'—two in de pants—an'—an' fo', no five, no six—six pockets in de coat!"
He giggled nervously as he thrust his little black fingers into one and then another. And then, suddenly overcome with a sense of the situation, he turned to Mrs. Cary, and, in a voice that trembled a little, said:
"Is you sho' you ain't 'feerd to trus' me wid all deze pockets, lady?"
It doesn't take a small boy long to slip into a new suit of clothes. And when a ragged urchin disappeared behind the head of the great old "four-poster" to-day, it seemed scarcely a minute before a trig, "tailor-made boy" strutted out from the opposite side, hands deep in pockets—breathing hard.
As Solomon Crow strode up and down the room, radiant with joy, he seemed for the moment quite unconscious of any one's presence. But presently he stopped, looked involuntarily upward a minute, as if he felt himself observed from above. Then, turning to the old people, who stood together before the mantel, delightedly watching him, he said:
"Bet you my angel twin ain't ashamed, ef he's a-lookin' down on me to-day."