“Well, and what did you do?” I asked, curiously.  I was getting a side-light on Great-Aunt Sophronisba.

“Me?  I got on muh knees an’ wrastled wid de speret,” said Uncle Adam.  “I done tuck mah troubles to de Lawd, whichin He ’bleeged ter know I cyant deal wid ol’ Mis’ Scarlett an’ de Doctor.  Missis, I prayed!”

“Oh!  And what happened then?”

The old man looked around him, cautiously, and lowered his voice: 
“Wellum, Mis’ Scarlett she tuck an’ went an’ up an’ died.  Yessum! 
She done daid.  An’ next thing we-all heah, she ‘d went an’ lef de
Hynds place to youna, ’stead ob de Doctor, or dat furriner.”

“She had Hynds relatives, then?  I didn’t know.”

“Wellum, de Doctor an’ ol’ Mis’ Scarlett wuz cousins.  Dat’s how come dey could fight so powerful.  Ain’t you nevah had no relations to fight wid, ma’ams?”

We explained, regretfully, that we hadn’t.

“Den you ain’t nevah knowed, an’ you ain’t nevah gwine ter knew, whut real, sho-nough fightin’ is,” said Unc’ Adam, with conviction.

“You mentioned a foreigner,” hinted Alicia.

The old man shook his head deprecatingly.  “Don’t seem lak I evah able to rickermembah dat boy’s name, nohow.  His grampa’ ’uz a Hynds, likewise his ma, but she ‘sisted on marryin’ er furriner, an’ de boy takes atter de furriners ’stead er we-all.  ‘Taint de po’ boy’s fault, but ol’ Mis’ Scarlett hated ’im wuss ’n pizen.  De only notice she take er de boy is ter warrant ‘im fo’ trispassin’.  Dat ’s how come folkses ter say—­” he paused suddenly.

“Well, what do folks say?” I wanted to know.

“Well, Missis,” he admitted, “dey say it’s natchel to fight wid yo’ kin whilst you ‘re livin’, but ’taint natchel ter carry de fight inter de grave-yahd.  Dat’s whut she done, ma’ams.  An’ folks is outdone wid ‘er, whichin’ she ain’t lef de Hynds place to de Hyndses, but done tuhn it ovah ter—­uh—­ah—­”

“To a Yankee woman named Smith?”

“Yessum, dat’s it.”

“Had either the Doctor or the foreigner any real claim or right to this property, do you know?”

“No, ma’am, we-all ‘lows dey ain’t got no mo’ law-right dan whut you’s got.  Ol’ Mis’ Scarlett ain’t ’bleeged ter lef it to de Hyndses, but folks thinks she oughter done it, an’ dey’s powerful riled ‘cause she ain’t.  Dey minds dis wuss’n all de warrantin’ an’ rampagin’ an’ rucusses she cut up whilst she wuz wid us.”

“I see,” said I, thoughtfully.

“Missises,” said the old man, anxiously, “you-all ain’t meanin’ ter stay hyuh to-night, is you?” He seemed really distressed at the notion.  “Lemme take you-all to de hotel, please, Missises!  Don’t stay hyuh to-night!”

“Why not?  What’s the matter with this house?”

Again he looked around him, stealthily.