Todd shot a beseeching look at Jemima to confirm his picturesque yarn, but the old woman would have none of it.

“Dere ain’t been nobody to tek care ob but des me.  I come yere ’cause I knowed ye didn’t hab no money to keep me, an’ I got back de ol’ furniture what I had fo’ I come to lib wid ye, an’ went to washin’, an’ if dat yaller skunk’s been tellin’ any lies ’bout me I’m gwineter wring his neck.”

“No, let Todd alone,” laughed St. George, his heart warming to the old woman at this further proof of her love for him.  “The Lord has already forgiven him that lie, and so have I. And now what have you got upstairs?”

They had mounted the steps by this time and St. George was peering into a clean, simply furnished room.  “First rate, aunty—­your lumber-yard man is in luck.  And now put that in your pocket,” and he handed her the package.

“What’s dis?”

“Nearly half a year’s wages.”

“I ain’t gwineter take it,” she snapped back in a positive tone.

St. George laid his hand tenderly on the old woman’s shoulder.  She had served him faithfully for many years and he was very fond of her.

“Tuck it in your bosom, aunty—­it should have been paid long ago.”

She looked at him shrewdly:  “Did de bank pay ye yit, Marse George?”

No

“Den I ain’t gwineter tech it—­I ain’t gwineter tech a fip ob it!” she exploded.  “How I know ye ain’t a-sufferin’ fer it!  See dat wash?—­an’ I got anudder room to rent if I’m min’ ter scrunch up a leetle mo’.  I kin git ’long.”

St. George’s hand again tightened on her shoulder.

“Take it when you can get it, aunty,” he said in a more serious tone, and turning on his heel joined Todd below, leaving the old woman in tears at the top of the stairs, the money on her limp outspread fingers.

All the way back to his home—­they had stopped to replenish the larder at the market—­St. George kept up his spirits.  Absurd as it was—­he a man tottering on the brink of dire poverty—­the situation from his stand-point was far from perilous.  He had discharged the one debt that had caused him the most anxiety—­the money due the faithful old cook; he had a basketful of good things—­among them half a dozen quail and three diamond-back terrapin—­the cheapest food in the market—­and he had funds left for his immediate wants.

With this feeling of contentment permeating his mind something of the old feeling of independence, with its indifference toward the dollar and what it meant and could bring him, welled up in his heart.  For a time at least the spectre of debt lay hidden.  A certain old-time happiness began to show itself in his face and bearing.  So evident was this that before many days had passed even Todd noticed the return of his old buoyancy, and so felt privileged to discuss his own feelings, now that the secret of their mode of earning a common livelihood was no longer a bugbear to his master.