But on the morrow something occurred which dismayed the girl.  She had shaken her sack over Alston’s basket, designing to empty a third of its contents there, and then the remainder in her “pick.”  But the cotton was closely packed in the sack, and almost the whole of it tumbled in a compact mass into Alston’s basket.  He would not need so much help as this to ensure him, so she proceeded to transfer a portion of the heap to her basket.  Suddenly she started as though shot.  Some one was calling to her and making a terrible accusation.  The some one was Edny Ann:  “Yer’s stealin’ thar’:  I see’d yer do it—­see’d yer takin’ cotton outen Als’on’s baskit.  Ain’t yer shame, yer yaller good-fer-nuffin’?  I’s gwine ter tell.”  This was the terrible accusation.

“Yer dun know nothin’ ’tall ’bout it,” said Little Lizay.  “It’s my cotton.  I emptied it in Als’on’s baskit when I didn’t go ter do it.  I ain’t tuck a sol’tary lock er Als’on’s cotton; an’ I wouldn’t, nuther, ter save my life.”

“Reckon yer kin fool me?” demanded the triumphant Edny Ann.  Then she called Alston with the O which Southerners inevitably prefix:  “O Als’on!  O Als’on! come yere! quick!”

“Don’t, please don’t, tell him,” Little Lizay pleaded.  “I’ll give yer my new cal’ker dress ef yer won’t tell nobody.”

But Edny Ann went on calling:  “O Als’on!  O Als’on! come yere!”

Little Lizay pleaded in a frantic way for silence as she saw Alston coming with long strides up between the cotton-rows toward them.

“I wants yer ter ten’ ter Lizay,” said Edny Ann.  “Her’s been stealin’ yer cotton:  see’d ’er do it—­see’d ’er take a heap er cotton outen yer baskit an’ ram it into hern.  Did so!”

Then you should have seen the man’s face.  Had it been white you could not have discerned any plainer the surprise, the disappointment, the grief.  Lizay saw with an indefinable thrill the sadness in his eyes, heard the grief in his voice.

“I didn’t reckon yer’d do sich a thing, Lizay,” he said.  “I know it’s mighty haud on yer, gittin’ cowhided ev’ry night, but stealin’ ain’t goin’ ter he’p it, Lizay.”

“I never stole yer cotton, Als’on,” Little Lizay said with a certain dignity, but with an unsteady voice.

“I see’d yer do it,” Edny Ann interrupted.

“I emptied my sack in yer baskit when I didn’t go ter do it,” Little Lizay continued.  “It wus my own cotton I wus takin’ out yer baskit.”

“Ef yer deny it, Lizay, yer’ll make it wusser.”  Then Alston went up close to her, so that Edny Ann might not hear, and said something in a low tone.