"I'm afraid you are impertinent, Neb. Don't meddle. You always have been
prejudiced against Barbara and her father."

The old negro answered quickly, bitterly. "I ain't likely to fuhgit,"
said he, "dat de only blow dat evuh fell upon my back was from his han'!
I guess you rickollick as well as I do. He cotch me coon-huntin' on his
place an' strung me up. He'd jes' skinned me dar alive if you-all hadn't
heered my holler in' an' run in."

Layson was uneasy at the turn the talk had taken. "That was years ago,
Neb," he expostulated.

"Don't seem yeahs ago to me, suh. Huh! De only blow dat evuh fell upon
my back! But yo' snatched dat whip out of his ban' an' den yo' laid it,
with ev'y ounce of stren'th war in yo', right acrost his face!"

Layson, unwilling to be harsh with the old man and forbid him to say
more, ostentatiously busied himself, now, about the table with the
frying-pan and other dishes, hoping, thus, to discourage further talk of
this sort.

"No, suh," Neb went on with shaking head, "I jus' nachelly don' like
him. Don't like _either_ of 'em. An' he, Marse Frank, he nevuh _will_
fuhgit dat blow, an' don't you think he will!"

"That's all over, long ago," said Frank, as he put the finishing touches
on the old man's supper. "And what had Barbara to do with it? She can't
help what her father does."

Neb drew up to the table with a continuously shaking head. For months he