He found Mrs. Oakley asleep when he reached the room, but he awakened her to tell her the story.  She was horror-struck.  It was hard to have to believe this awful thing of an old servant, but she agreed with him that Hamilton must be made an example of when the time came.  Before that, however, he must not know that he was suspected.

They fell asleep, he with thoughts of anger and revenge, and she grieved and disappointed.

IV

FROM A CLEAR SKY

The inmates of the Oakley house had not been long in their beds before Hamilton was out of his and rousing his own little household.

“You, Joe,” he called to his son, “git up f’om daih an’ come right hyeah.  You got to he’p me befo’ you go to any shop dis mo’nin’.  You, Kitty, stir yo’ stumps, miss.  I know yo’ ma ‘s a-dressin’ now.  Ef she ain’t, I bet I ‘ll be aftah huh in a minute, too.  You all layin’ ‘roun’, snoozin’ w’en you all des’ pint’ly know dis is de mo’nin’ Mistah Frank go ’way f’om hyeah.”

It was a cool Autumn morning, fresh and dew-washed.  The sun was just rising, and a cool clear breeze was blowing across the land.  The blue smoke from the “house,” where the fire was already going, whirled fantastically over the roofs like a belated ghost.  It was just the morning to doze in comfort, and so thought all of Berry’s household except himself.  Loud was the complaining as they threw themselves out of bed.  They maintained that it was an altogether unearthly hour to get up.  Even Mrs. Hamilton added her protest, until she suddenly remembered what morning it was, when she hurried into her clothes and set about getting the family’s breakfast.

The good-humour of all of them returned when they were seated about their table with some of the good things of the night before set out, and the talk ran cheerily around.

“I do declaih,” said Hamilton, “you all ’s as bad as dem white people was las’ night.  De way dey waded into dat food was a caution.”  He chuckled with delight at the recollection.

“I reckon dat ‘s what dey come fu’.  I was n’t payin’ so much ’tention to what dey eat as to de way dem women was dressed.  Why, Mis’ Jedge Hill was des’ mo’n go’geous.”

“Oh, yes, ma, an’ Miss Lessing was n’t no ways behin’ her,” put in Kitty.

Joe did not condescend to join in the conversation, but contented himself with devouring the good things and aping the manners of the young men whom he knew had been among last night’s guests.

“Well, I got to be goin’,” said Berry, rising.  “There ’ll be early breakfas’ at de ‘house’ dis mo’nin’, so ’s Mistah Frank kin ketch de fus’ train.”

He went out cheerily to his work.  No shadow of impending disaster depressed his spirits.  No cloud obscured his sky.  He was a simple, easy man, and he saw nothing in the manner of the people whom he served that morning at breakfast save a natural grief at parting from each other.  He did not even take the trouble to inquire who the strange white man was who hung about the place.