Miss Smith's throat swelled. She couldn't tell him that he would never get one at the present rate; she only said:
"I'll—look this up. You come again next Saturday."
Then sadly she watched the ragged old slave hobble away with his cherished "papers." He greeted the young man at the gate and passed out, while the latter walked briskly up to the door and knocked.
"Why, how do you do, Robert?"
"How do you do, Miss Smith?"
"Well, are you getting things in shape so as to enter school early next year?"
Robert looked embarrassed.
"That's what I came to tell you, Miss Smith. Mr. Cresswell has offered me forty acres of good land."
Miss Smith looked disheartened.
"Robert, here you are almost finished, and my heart is set on your going to Atlanta University and finishing college. With your fine voice and talent for drawing—"