Instead, it was Lessing who came a day or two later to see me. He
lounged in one evening when I was sitting smoking on the porch, after
supper, and my first advice of his presence was the clatter of a zinc
pail which Pete let fall promptly in the side yard. When Lessing
rounded the corner of the porch he was grinning.
"Your nigger must have a bad conscience," he said. "I never saw
anyone so afraid of the devil in all my life!"
I made a sound of annoyance. Evidently I had not finished with Pete
yet. "He's a born idiot!" I said.
"I'm not so sure," Lessing returned. "He has a very practical regard
for his own skin. I appreciate that."
"You ought to."
He gave me one of those habitual quick looks, his head on one side.
"Thanks! Do you find the mosquitoes bad around here? I got all
bitten up coming past Dutchman's Hollow."