"
"What is his name? I suppose he can shave me."
"Calls himself Josiah," said Peter. "Mighty poor barber--cut my face last
time he shaved me. You see, he's lost two fingers--makes him awkwarder."
"What! what!" said Grey, of a sudden reflecting, "two fingers--"
"Know him?" said Lamb quickly.
"I--no--Do you suppose I know every runaway nigger?"
"Oh, of course not. Might I ask your name, sir?"
"I am a cousin of Mrs. Penhallow. My name is Grey." Peter became cautious
and silent. "Here is a little help, my man, until you get work. Stick to
the good old Party." He left two dollars in Lamb's eager hands.
Surprised at this unusual bounty, Peter said, "Thank you, sir. God bless
you. It'll be a great help." It meant for the hapless drinker whisky, and
he was quick to note the way in which Grey became interested in the man
who had lost fingers.
Grey lingered. "I must risk your barber's awkwardness," he said.
"Oh, he can shave pretty well when he's sober. He's our only darkey, sir.
You can't miss him. I might show you his shop." This Grey declined.
"I suppose, sir," said Peter, curious, "all darkies look so much alike
that it is hard to tell them apart."
"Oh, not for us--not for us."
Then Peter was still more sure that the gentleman with the gold-headed
cane was from the South.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181