Mrs. Whately departed.  Mrs. Baron put her thin lips together in a way which meant volumes, and went out on her housekeeping round, giving orders to Zany in sharper, more metallic tones than usual.  The delinquent herself had overheard enough of the conversation to learn that the evil day had at least been put off and to get some clew as to the future.

CHAPTER XXXIV

CHUNK PLAYS SPOOK

Since Mr. Baron had yielded for the present, Mrs. Whately was glad nothing need be said to the physician concerning their affairs.  His positive injunction of quiet was sufficient, and now that Mr. Baron was impressed with its need and had had time for sober second thought, he concluded that he had trouble enough on hand as it was.  He felt that every quiet day gained was so much toward securing the absolutely essential crops.  Perkins was therefore summoned and the situation in part explained.

The overseer was in unusual good-humor over the death of Scoville, and if Chunk had escaped finally, there was compensation in the thought of having no more disturbance from that source.  So, fortunately for poor Zany, avarice came to the fore and Perkins agreed that the best thing to do was to bend every energy to “making the crops,” using severity only in the furtherance of this end.

“Beg pardon, Mr. Baron, but I must have sump’n up and down clar.  There’s been so many bosses of late en my orders been knocked eendwise so of’en that I don’t know, en the hands don’t know whether I’ve got any po’r or no.  Ef this thing ’bout Chunk gits out, en nobody punished, the fiel’-hans natchelly think we darsn’t punish.  Mought es well give up then.”

“Punish as much as you think necessary to keep the quarter-hands at work.  Then it is plain,” replied Mr. Baron.

Very seldom had Perkins been in so complacent and exultant a mood as when he left the presence of Mr. Baron that morning.  But his troubles began speedily.  Jute had slept little the night before and was stupid and indifferent to his work in the afternoon.  Finding threats had little effect, the overseer struck a blow with his cane.  The negro turned fiercely but was confronted with a revolver.  He resumed work doggedly, his sullen look spreading like the shadow of a cloud to the faces of the others.  So many began to grow indifferent and reckless that to punish all was out of the question.  Perkins stormed and threatened, striking some here and there, almost beside himself from increasing anxiety and rage.  Whichever way he turned a dark vindictive face met his eyes.  The slaves had enjoyed a brief sense and sweet hope of freedom; he was seeking to refasten the yoke with brutal hands and it galled as never before.  Even his narrow arbitrary nature was impressed with the truth that a great change was taking place; that a proclamation issued hundreds of miles away was more potent than his heavy hand.  He was as incapable of any policy other than force as was his employer of abandoning the grooves in which his thoughts had always run.