He feels as much interest in you as I do; but the world don't
look upon him now as it once did-"
"Neber mind: I gwine to work fo' old mas'r. It'll take dis old child
to see old mas'r all right," replies the old man, forgetting that he
is too old to take care of himself, properly. Bob finishes his
supper, rests his elbow on the table and his head in his hand, and
commences disclosing his troubles to Franconia. He tells her how he
secreted himself in the pine-woods,--how he wandered through swamps,
waded creeks, slept on trunks of trees, crept stealthily to the old
mansion at night, listened for mas'r's footsteps, and watched
beneath the veranda; and when he found he was not there, how he
turned and left the spot, his poor heart regretting. How his heart
beat as he passed the old familiar cabin, retracing his steps to
seek a shelter in the swamp; how, when he learned her residence,
famished with hunger, he wended his way into the city to seek her
out, knowing she would relieve his wants.
"What vil da do wid me, spose da cotch me, Miss Frankone?" enquires
the old man, simply, looking down at his encrusted feet, and again
at his nether wardrobe, which he feels is not just the thing to
appear in before young missus.
"They won't do anything cruel to you, Daddy. You are too old; your
grey hairs will protect you. Why, Daddy, you would not fetch a bid
if they found out who owned you, and put you up at auction
to-morrow," she says, with seeming unconsciousness.
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