“Standin’ up to Ole Missus!”
“Lawd! Lawd! She’ll skin you!”
They looked at him admiringly. Only Sandy shook his head. “Not good!” was his only comment.
And Frederick, sitting there on the empty box, agreed with Sandy.
Mrs. Freeland’s cane slipped to the floor as the door closed behind the two slaves. Her hand was shaking. Her son was puzzled as he bent to pick up the cane.
“Mother, you have upset yourself. I’m so sorry. But I declare I don’t see why.”
The small white head jerked up.
“You don’t! So this is your idea of better material. That—That mongrel!” Her words were vehement.
“Oh, Mother! For heaven’s sake!” The scene he had witnessed suddenly took on meaning. Was “bad blood” getting to be an obsession with her?