“So camp-meeting is a privilege, is it?” he said carelessly.  “How much more good will it do you to go there than to stay at home and hoe my corn?”

The eyes were rolled up until only the whites were visible.

“Powerful sight more good, Mass Hildreff.  De preacher’s ’n uncommon relijus man, an’ de ‘speriences uv de bredren is mighty upliftin’.  Yes, sah!”

“Well, see that they don’t lift you up so high that you’ll forget to come down again.  I suppose you have an experience in common with the rest?”

“Yes, Mass Hildreff,” and the palm-leaf made another gyration through the air.  “I’se got a powerful ’sperience, sah.”

“Well, off you go.  It would be a pity to deprive the assembly of such an edifying specimen of sanctimoniousness.”

“Yes, sah, I’se bery sanktimonyus.  I’se ’bliged to you, sah.”

With a last obsequious flourish the palm-leaf was restored to its resting-place upon the snowy wool, and the negro shambled away.  When he had gone a few yards a sudden thought struck his master and he called,—­

“Methusaleh, I say, Methusaleh!”

“Yes, sah,” and the servant retraced his steps.

“What about that turkey of mine that you stole last week?  You can’t go to camp-meeting with that on your conscience.  Come, now, better take off your finery and repent in sackcloth and ashes.”

For an instant the negro was nonplused, then the palm-leaf was flourished grandiloquently, while its owner said in a voice of withering scorn,—­

“Laws!  Mass Hildreff, do yer spose I’se goin’ ter neglec’ de Lawd fer one lil’ turkey?”

His master turned on his heel with a low laugh.  “Of a piece with the whole of them!” he said bitterly.  “Hypocrites and shams!”

“Evadne!” he exclaimed impetuously, as a slight girlish figure came towards him, “never say a single word that you do not mean nor express a sensation that you have not felt.  It is the people who neglect this rule who play havoc with themselves and the world.”

“Why, dearest, you frighten me!” and the girl slipped her hand through his arm with a low, sweet laugh.  “I never saw you look so solemn before.”

“Hypocrisy, Vad, is the meanest thing on earth!  The pious people at the church yonder call me an unbeliever, but they’ve got themselves to thank for it.  I may be a good-for-nothing but at least I will not preach what I do not practise.”

“You are as good as gold, dearest.  I won’t have you say such horrid things!  And you don’t need to preach anything.  I am sure no one in all the world could be happier than we.”

Her father put his hand under her chin, and, lifting her face towards his, looked long and earnestly at the pure brow, about which the brown hair clustered in natural curls, the clear-cut nose, the laughing lips parted over a row of pearls, and the wonderful deep gray eyes.

“Are you happy, little one?” he asked wistfully.  “Are you quite sure about that?”