grew most uncomfortable. She hung for an instant between success and
sobbing failure, till a bubble from Mother Eve rose up in her youthful
blood and burst into a spray of perfect feminine deceit. She did not try
to add to her simple statement, but began to eat her berries, calmly, as
though the subject were completely closed.

"Which way did he go?" the officer demanded, and she pointed with her
spoon.

"Down by the spring--through the blackberry patch."

The soldier was half-convinced. He stood for a moment, looking at the
floor, then asked her sharply, suddenly:

"If your father had gone, then why did you lock that door?"

She faltered, but only for an instant.

"'Cause I thought you might be--_niggers_."

The man before her clenched his hands, as he thought of that new-born,
hideous danger menacing the South.

"I see," he answered gently; "_yes_, I see." He turned away, but, even
as he turned, his eye was caught by the double-doored cupboard against
the wall. "What do you keep in there?" he asked; and the child smiled
faintly, a trifle sadly, in reply:

"We _used_ to keep things to eat--when we had any."