Estelle's lashes again quivered slightly, and her lips parted in the shadow of a smile—just enough to reveal the straight, faultless joint between her two rows of glistening teeth. She reached for the great black hand which rested on his knee and laid it in her lap, covering it with her own. It was as if she recognized in that member of sledge-hammer size and hardness a sure defense from all harm. Yet the light which played in her eyes, as she lazily turned her face toward his, was still half-ironical. Was it Caucasian fleering at Ethiopian—white blood mocking black?
"Moss, I'd lak to see him try to hoss-whip you." She laughed at the thought.
"You mus'n' want me to fight," he rebuked her quietly. "I don' lak to fight. I want to git where I won' never have to fight. When I gits awdained as preacher, we gwine live in the country, an' have a li'l' house with a gyahden, where dad kin potter roun' and raise us veg'tables. You won' have to wuk in no laundry then, or live in a hawg-pen lak this."
Estelle was quiet for several minutes, with her large eyes fixed reflectively on the stars.
"When you think you gwine be awdained?" she finally asked.
"Pretty soon, now; soon's I learns to read a li'l' better."
But in his heart he was not so sure. Old Benjy was of the opinion that he would at least have to go through the Third Reader to qualify for ordination, and he was only beginning the Second.
"You think you lak the country better as you do the city?" asked Estelle hesitatingly.
"Don' you?" he demanded in astonishment.
"Oh, I do," she hastened to assure him. "But I was juss wunnerin' ef you wou'n' make mo money in a big chu'ch in the city as you would in a li'l' chu'ch in the country."