“Oh, I’ll res’ myself, but I ain’ gwine sponge on you dat away.  I got some money,” and the old man dug down into his long pocket.  But his host laid a hand on his arm.

“Your money’s no good up here.”

“Wh—­wh—­why, I thought dis money passed any whah in de Nunited States!” exclaimed the bewildered old man.

“That’s all right, but you can’t spend it until we run out.”

“Oh!  Why, bless yo’ soul, suh, you skeered me.  You sho’ is clevah.”

Turner went out and came upon his emissaries, where they had halted the singing Zach in the hallway, and were trying to get into his muddled brain that his father was there.

“Wha’sh de ol’ man doin’ at de ‘Banner,’ gittin’ gay in his ol’ days?  Hic.”

That was enough for Turner to hear.  “Look a-here,” he said, “don’t you get flip when you meet your father.  He’s come a long ways to see you, and I’m damned if he shan’t see you right.  Remember you’re stoppin’ at my house as long as the old man stays, and if you make a break while he’s here I’ll spoil your mug for you.  Bring him along, boys.”

Zach had started in for a Christmas celebration, but they took him into an empty room.  They sent to the drug store and bought many things.  When the young man came out an hour later he was straight, but sad.

“Why, Pap,” he said when he saw the old man, “I’ll be—­”

“Hem!” said Turner.

“I’ll be blessed!” Zach finished.

The old man looked him over.  “Tsch! tsch! tsch!  Dis is a Crismus gif’ fu’ sho’!” His voice was shaking.  “I’s so glad to see you, honey; but chile, you smell lak a ’pothac’ay shop.”

“I ain’t been right well lately,” said Zach sheepishly.

To cover his confusion Turner called for eggnog.

When it came the old man said:  “Well, I’s Baptis’ myse’f, but seein’ it’s Crismus—­”

JOHNSONHAM, JUNIOR

Now any one will agree with me that it is entirely absurd for two men to fall out about their names; but then, circumstances alter cases.  It had its beginning in 1863, and it has just ended.

In the first place, Ike and Jim had been good friends on the plantation, but when the time came for them to leave and seek homes for themselves each wanted a name.  The master’s name was Johnson, and they both felt themselves entitled to it.  When Ike went forth to men as Isaac Johnson, and Jim, not to be outdone, became James Johnsonham, the rivalry began.  Each married and became the father of a boy who took his father’s name.

When both families moved North and settled in Little Africa their children had been taught that there must be eternal enmity between them on account of their names, and just as lasting a friendship on every other score.  But with boys it was natural that the rivalry should extend to other things.  When they went to school it was a contest for leadership both in the classroom and in sports, and when Isaac Johnson left school to go to work in the brickyard, James Johnsonham, not to be outdone in industry, also entered the same field of labor.