I'm kind of lonely."
"All right," said Billy, in the cheerful way which made him a favourite
despite his disinclination for steady work.
"Now, don't be gone long. I need a good shave, Billy."
"Guess you do--way you look you wouldn't fetch five cents at one of them
rummage-sales. Ain't had but one in four years."
"Oh, get out, Billy." Once rid of his guard he tried in vain to stand up
and fell back cursing.
The order from the doctor was to be obeyed. "Guess he's too shaky to
shave himself," said Josiah. "I'll come about half-past eight."
As Josiah walked to the far end of the village, he thought in his simple
way of his last three years. After much wandering and fear of being
traced, he had been used at the stables by Penhallow. That he had been a
slave was suspected, but that troubled no one in Westways. He had long
felt at ease and safe. He lived alone, a man of some forty years, cooked
for himself, and had in the county bank a small amount of carefully saved
earnings. He had his likes and dislikes, but he had the prudently guarded
tongue of servitude. Long before John Penhallow had understood better the
tall black man's position and won the confidence of a friendly hour, he
saw with his well-bred courtesy how pleased was the man to be called Mr.
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