It may not seem such a very pleasant thing to some people to go out in the freezing air, and hack down a lot of tough cedars, but to Jo it was simply delightful.
"Jes tink of dat dar, 'Thus'lem," he said to his crow, "'ter be sot ter work for Santy Claws himseff! 'Pears like as ef de good times is comin' for dis yere Jo, 'Thus'lem. Mas'r Harry's powerful good to bofe of us nowadays. It's a bressed Christmas dis yere, 'Thus'lem."
The fact was that Harry had determined to make up to Jo for the grief he had given him in the careless shooting of his favorite crow. He was shocked when he saw the agony his careless indifference had given Jo. He had no idea a little darky like that could feel even worse than he would if any accident should happen to one of his pets. When Harry found out that the color of Jo's skin did not hinder him from being a real boy like himself, with all a boy's appreciation, and much more than an average boy's feeling, Jo went up a good many pegs in Harry's estimation, and not having any white boys handy, he made excellent use of Jo.
There was an air of secrecy about the house that always belonged to Christmas-time. When the Judge came home from town with his pockets bulging out, and winked to his wife to follow him to an adjoining room, nobody thought of prying into their secrets except 'Thus'lem; but then no one minded him.
Harry had his own secrets too, shared by nobody except Jo. He was almost too dignified to take a poor little negro like Jo into his full confidence, but there was a little package in his bureau drawer, and he was bursting to show it to somebody. It was a likeness of himself nicely inclosed in a little locket that would just fit upon his mother's gold chain.
"Don't you say anything about it, Jo."
"Not for de worl', Mas'r Harry. I'd die afore I'd reveal a solemn secret like dat dar."
"I believe you would, Jo. I think I can trust you."
Jo's heart almost burst with pride at this mark of confidence. He did not even tell 'Thus'lem, though he was sorely tempted to, as he never kept anything from his pet crow. The very next day it happened that another honor was conferred upon Jo.
Mrs. Malcom had shut herself up in her room, and when Jo brought a scuttle of coal, she did not put aside the pretty purse she was knitting, but nodded and smiled when she saw Jo looking at it.