The two came back looking as if they had been temporarily detained in
a flour-barrel.
"Why, yes, those are very clean; but you seem to be just a little
dusty yourselves, aren't you?"
"Yas'm," agreed Trusty, while Ezekiel brushed him with doubtful
success. "Kin ole Sam'el Smiff dus' 'em?"
"Samuel Smith? I don't think Samuel ever did dust them----"
"'Cuz me 'n' 'Zekiel kin dus' 'em good's dat 'mos' _any_ time; cyan't
we, 'Zekiel?"
By the time that school was ready to begin that morning, there stood a
stately line of "visitors from the North" across Miss North's room,
ready for enlightenment on the Negro Problem. And as Miss North began:
"We are having a new month to-day, children; who can tell me what the
name of the month is?" the line drew itself up, preparatory to getting
right down to the heart of the matter.
"What month, class?"
"February!"
"Yes; very good. Is February a short month or a long month?"
There was an unfortunate difference of opinion:
"Short!" "Long!" "Short!" "Long!" "_Short!_" "_Long!_"
"Very well," joined in Miss North, ready to agree to anything. "What
do you say about it, Archelus?"
"Li'l' teeny bit uv a short month," explained Archelus. "Ain' no
longer'n----"
As Archelus was about to illustrate the length of February with his
two small hands, Miss North waived any further information on the
subject, and went on:
"Yes, a short month. And who can tell me what holiday we have in this
month?"
There were two or three who promptly arrived at conclusions. The
visitors were smiling wide smiles of appreciation.
"Lemuel?"
"Chris'mas!"
"Oh, no; we have just had Christmas. Samuel?"
"Thanksgivin'!"
"Why, no, indeed, Samuel; you are not thinking. William?"
"Washin'ton's Birthday!"
One of the visitors, a rosy-cheeked gentleman with white hair, gave
such a loud grunt of appreciation at this that Miss North glanced his
way.
"Can he tell us anything _about_ George Washington?" he questioned
smilingly, in response to Miss North's glance.
"Oh, I think so. Who can tell me some one thing about George
Washington, children? Hands, please."
"That little boy," smiled the rosy-cheeked gentleman; "he seems to be
getting so very much interested!"
Heavens! it was Trusty who was getting interested. Miss North glanced
at his face, which radiated with delighted intelligence as he fixed
his eyes on the closed coat-closet, and felt a chilling and definite
foreboding.
"H-m--yes," she went on evasively, "yes. Ezekiel, can you tell
us--something about--" What was the matter? Had _Ezekiel_ forgotten
how to talk? To be sure! His eyes, kindling with interest and pride,
were fixed on his friend.
"No, no! This one," explained the rosy-cheeked gentleman, his eyes
still resting smilingly on Trusty. "Well, what do you know about
George Washington, little fellow?"
"_Miss No'th got 'im shet up in de coat-closet!_"
The rosy-cheeked gentleman stepped back a bit, and there was suddenly
a rather startled expression on the part of the visitors from the
North. Somewhat furtively they glanced at the coat-closet, apparently
expecting to see the immortal George emerge in person at any moment.
Miss North coughed slightly, and looked as if she had known happier
times.
"You may be seated, Trusty."
"She shet 'im in dere fer imperdence!" explained Trusty.
But just then the door creaked softly, and from the unknown depths of
the coat-closet a little figure peered anxiously.
"Mith No'th! Kin I come out now?"
Miss North looked at the small figure, and then at the visitors from
the North, whereupon they all looked at her; and then suddenly the
rosy-cheeked gentleman burst out into such unchecked, joyous laughter
that the others all joined in, and the visitors from the North moved
on.
At the same time, there was a thump on the door which opened from the
back hall, and a large and ancient colored man advanced into the room.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "THAT LITTLE BOY, SMILED THE ROSY-CHEEKED GENTLEMAN"]
"Mawnin', Miss, mawnin'!" he began in loud, cheerful tones. "'Scusin'
de privilege o' de interruption, I'se 'blige ax yer kin I borry Trusty
fer a li'l' w'ile, 'spesh'ly fer de 'casion?"
Just what the occasion was he did not explain; but Trusty, possibly
receiving suggestive glimmers of inward light on the subject, and
being at this particular moment otherwise interested, began to show
evidence of unexpected combativeness.
"M-m-m--I ain' gwine be 'scuse fer no 'casion," he mumbled
cantankerously.
"Come, now, boy, ya-as, yer is, too!" disagreed the parent, advancing
toward the subject of complication. "Yer see, Miss! Ain't I tole yer
he's de hard-haidedes' chile? Fus I'se 'blige whup 'im school, 'n'
nex' I cyan' git 'im 'way ter bless me! Ain't I jes tole yer!" And
again, with a firm hand, Trusty was lifted and transported across the
room to the open door. Miss North hastily suggested the final
formalities requisite for an excuse, but her voice was quite lost
among the reverberations of a more powerful organ:
"Ain't I jes tole yer so! Ya-as, yer is, too! Ain't I jes tole yer!
Come 'long, now; jes come 'long, now!"
They disappeared through the doorway, and then only the final
reverberations came back to them as Trusty was triumphantly exhorted
on his way.
* * * * *
But the worst of vicissitudes, and the best of them, only wait to give
place to new ones, and the old days change to new ones and the weeks
and the months go on; and, as the oft-repeated act becomes a habit, so
it had finally become an unvarying habit for Ezekiel to arrive at
school with Trusty's hand held loosely in his own, while Trusty
himself plodded unresistingly at his side.
But occasionally there comes a time, too, when the habitual thing
fails to happen.
It was one morning toward the end of May. Miss North had glanced at
the clock, which hovered close to nine, and then she had glanced
around the room at several waiting children, and into the yard, which
was filling rapidly, and wondered, half passively, why Ezekiel and
Trusty had not come. In a quickly changing, drifting undercurrent of
thought, she remembered their first arrival together--just how they
had looked as they stood, hand in hand, before her desk. Again, she
remembered Trusty as he had looked that first day, just after his
arrival, first sullenly rebelling, and then vibrating, as it were,
between a state of absolute indifference and one of suddenly aroused
interest. Strange, how it had grown to be a regular thing for Trusty
to be "interested"! She glanced around the room and out to the yard
again, and wondered why they didn't come; and when one of the children
came in from outside with an excited story of "ole Trusty racin' down
de road, an' 'is father after 'im," she listened.
"Ole man Miles say Trusty he cyan' come school dis yere day, an'
Trusty say he is, an' 'Zekiel say he is, too, an' ole man say he
ain't, an' Trusty 'n' 'Zekiel say he is, an' start off down de road
jes a-runnin'! An' ole man af' 'em clean all de way yere!"
A moment after this enthusiastic announcement, the school-room door
burst open, and Ezekiel came lurching into the room, half carrying,
half dragging Trusty, who was spattered with mud and dirt from head to
foot.
"_Miss No'th! He say he cyan' come!_" cried Ezekiel. "_He--he say--he
cyan' come--no mo'!_" He stumbled against her desk, and Trusty dropped
limply down before him, feebly snatching at Miss North's skirts.
"He--he--say--I cyan'--come--no mo'!" he whispered in a faint, panting
echo.
Ezekiel dropped heavily against the desk, his breath catching
convulsively in his throat. "He--he lock 'im up so he cyan' come
ter--ter school!" he choked. "But--T-Trusty he say he--he is, an' he
keep on tellin' 'im he--is--an' he is! An'--an' he jes say--he cyan'
come--no--mo'!" His head bumped down between his arms, and he waited,
his breath still catching in his throat. "An' I--I tells 'im he--he's
'_blige_ ter come! But--'tain'--no--use; he--he--jes lock de do'!
An'--an' we jumps outen de winder, an'--an' he cotch T-Trusty 'n' lock
'im up 'gin--an'--an' he jumps outen 'gin--'cuz he keeps on tellin'
'im he--he's--'b-blige ter come ter--ter school! He--he tells 'im
he's--jes--'_b-blige ter come!_"
With hushed faces, the children gazed first at Ezekiel and then at
Miss North. With an involuntary movement of the arms, she made a
movement toward him. But a small heap of a boy stirred at her feet,
and she looked down. A possibility, suddenly realized, seemed to seize
him, and he looked up, clinging to her in helpless terror.
"Doan't yer let 'im tek me back!" he whispered hoarsely, "so I cyan'
git 'way! Doan't yer, Miss No'th! Please doan't yer! 'Cuz--ain't I
'blige--ain't I 'blige--s-seem like--some'ow"--Miss North bent down to
hear it--"s-seem like--some'ow--t-ter-day--I'se jes--'_blige ter be
yere!_"
She heard the faint, choked whisper, and she saw the trembling little
figure. She saw the other little figure, and then again the faint,
choked whisper came sounding up to her ears. But dimly, dimly--just
for the moment--she seemed to hear something else--to see another
little boy, whipped to school by a coarse, brutish man, yet all the
while helplessly struggling against it. That other little boy--again
the small hands caught at her skirts.
"Doan't yer let 'im! Will yer, Miss No'th?"
She lifted him from the floor.
"No--I won't let him," and she put him gently into his seat.
Still, with hushed faces, the children gazed wonderingly.... She held
out her arms.
"Come, Ezekiel!" Was Miss North going to cry?
"Sit down--right here, Ezekiel; you are very--tired!"
He still hung over the desk, and she went up to him between the seats.
"Eze-kiel! Come! Come--my dear little boy!"
But there was the sound of an opening door, and she turned.
In the doorway stood a large and ancient-looking colored man, and for
a moment he only stood there, breathing laboriously and murmuring in
strange, half-audible tones. Then, with sudden unexpected perception,
he took in the scene before him. Half mortified, half conciliatory, he
turned to Miss North.
"Jes all completely wrop in dey edjercation!" he explained
ingratiatingly, with resigned indulgence. His eyes rested on Trusty.
"Cert'nly did use ter be de boss o' dat boy! Cert'nly did!" He looked
at Ezekiel and chuckled indulgently. "But look like times is change!
Cert'nly is change! Ya-as, suh, I jes natchelly pass de case over ter
you!"
He turned around and went out again--and Ezekiel looked up at Miss
North through his tears.
[Illustration]