His tears were shed, however, when, actuated by the idea that times would be easier up North, they moved to Dalesford.  Then, when he learned that he must leave his old friends, the horses and their masters, whom he had known, he wept.  The comparatively meagre appointments of the Fair-grounds at Dalesford proved a poor compensation for all these.  For the first few weeks Patsy had dreams of running away—­back to Kentucky and the horses and stables.  Then after a while he settled himself with heroic resolution to make the best of what he had, and with a mighty effort took up the burden of life away from his beloved home.

Eliza Barnes, older and more experienced though she was, took up her burden with a less cheerful philosophy than her son.  She worked hard, and made a scanty livelihood, it is true, but she did not make the best of what she had.  Her complainings were loud in the land, and her wailings for her old home smote the ears of any who would listen to her.

They had been living in Dalesford for a year nearly, when hard work and exposure brought the woman down to bed with pneumonia.  They were very poor—­too poor even to call in a doctor, so there was nothing to do but to call in the city physician.  Now this medical man had too frequent calls into Little Africa, and he did not like to go there.  So he was very gruff when any of its denizens called him, and it was even said that he was careless of his patients.

Patsy’s heart bled as he heard the doctor talking to his mother: 

“Now, there can’t be any foolishness about this,” he said.  “You’ve got to stay in bed and not get yourself damp.”

“How long you think I got to lay hyeah, doctah?” she asked.

“I’m a doctor, not a fortune-teller,” was the reply.  “You’ll lie there as long as the disease holds you.”

“But I can’t lay hyeah long, doctah, case I ain’t got nuffin’ to go on.”

“Well, take your choice:  the bed or the boneyard.”

Eliza began to cry.

“You needn’t sniffle,” said the doctor; “I don’t see what you people want to come up here for anyhow.  Why don’t you stay down South where you belong?  You come up here and you’re just a burden and a trouble to the city.  The South deals with all of you better, both in poverty and crime.”  He knew that these people did not understand him, but he wanted an outlet for the heat within him.

There was another angry being in the room, and that was Patsy.  His eyes were full of tears that scorched him and would not fall.  The memory of many beautiful and appropriate oaths came to him; but he dared not let his mother hear him swear.  Oh! to have a stone—­to be across the street from that man!

When the physician walked out, Patsy went to the bed, took his mother’s hand, and bent over shamefacedly to kiss her.  He did not know that with that act the Recording Angel blotted out many a curious damn of his.

The little mark of affection comforted Eliza unspeakably.  The mother-feeling overwhelmed her in one burst of tears.  Then she dried her eyes and smiled at him.