\i7xiT •nrc^TP AA i3r?Tr\TM D iav7V\r\N n 
 
REBELS OF THE 
 NEW SOUTH 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER MARION RAYMOND 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY PERCY BERTRAM BALL 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY 
 
 1905 
 
Copyright 1904 
 By CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY 
 
TO MY BELOVED COMRADE 
 
 PERCY BERTRAM BALL 
 
 ^r^xo^; 
 
O magnet South! O glistening, perfumed South! My South! 
 
 quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! Good and evil! 
 
 O all dear to me! 
 
 Come, I will make the continent indissoluble; 
 
 1 will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet shone 
 
 upon; 
 I will make divine magnetic lands. 
 
 With the love of comra,de*r. 
 
 With the life-long love of comrades. 
 
 I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers 
 of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, 
 and all over the prairies; 
 I will make inseparable cities, with their arms about each 
 other's necks; 
 
 By the love of comrades, 
 
 By the manly love of comrades. 
 
 Walt Whitman. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The guineas had flown to rest in the tree they 
 loved, an old sweetgum green with mistletoe toward 
 its crest. The turkeys flitted fretfully among the 
 boughs of the aspen beside the icehouse. The last 
 chicken had sleepily groped its way into the hennery. 
 
 Cindie turned from watching her feathered 
 charges and swept the sunless heavens with a pro- 
 phetic eye. 
 
 "Dis is gwine be a white Chris'mas, or I dunno 
 how to unriddle de elements," she observed. "Dar 
 now! Dar now !" she added, excitedly. "What I tole 
 you? It's snowin' now ! Fo' Gawd, it is !" 
 
 From the crumbling cabin of old Tom Tait, a dollar- 
 less degenerate living down at the cross-roads, came 
 the dismal baying of a hound, accentuating the gloom 
 of the December evening. 
 
 'T wonder whar dat skinny, no-count whjte devil 
 gwine play his fiddle to-night?" the old woman asked 
 herself. "He gwine fiddle somewhars, I know! 
 What? Christmas Eve, and ole Tom Tait not at some 
 breakdown wid dat everlastin' fiddle of hisn ! Dat's 
 all he fit for, anyways, fiddlin' and drinkin' whisky! 
 I wonder what most folks was made for ? Dey suttiny 
 don't 'tribute nuffin to de glory of Gawd. Yander 
 come de chile nowM Yander come dat po' chile! 
 Ain't dis nigger glad?" 
 
 "Dat po' chile" was a stalwart man v.^ho had seen 
 
8 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 the trees unleaf five and twenty times. But Doctor 
 Custis would always be a child in the eyes of his 
 adoring mammy. 
 
 "I wonder whar dat boy 'Relius is?" grunted the 
 old woman. "Don't he know he oughts to be round 
 to tend to dat boss? I 'clar' 'fo' Gawd if dat yaller 
 rascal earns de salt in his bread. Yander he come 
 now, an' runnin' like he break his ole neck. Chris'mas 
 mc^s' heah — dal's what means all dat sudden nimble- 
 ness. Wonder he don't jump over de moon, he so sin- 
 ful frisky all asudden. I does 'spise a 'ceitful nigger — 
 yes, Lawd, wussen pizen. But he jes' like all dem Per- 
 kins niggers. I ain't never untangle de riddle of dat 
 gal of mine takin' up wid dat bow-legged, yaller nig- 
 ger Pete Perkins. He couldn't cot me wid de little 
 feed whar he flung out to cot Puss Octavie wid. But 
 a passel of women folks, all you got do to cot 'em is 
 to say 'Coochie, coochie !' and dey run in de man's 
 arms. You don't even have to sprinkle no feed for 
 'em. Dey come glad 'nough widout it." 
 
 The old negress walked to the hearth, threw a cou- 
 ple of logs upon the fire, and, turning her back to the 
 blaze, stood awaiting her master. 
 
 "Well, mammy," he said, entering the room at 
 length, "Uncle William's sufferings are over." 
 
 "He gone den? Po' ole soul!" 
 
 "Plappy old soul! But it will be hard to realize 
 for some time that honest old William Waller is with 
 us no more. Ah, me!" looking gloomily into the fire. 
 "One by one, they go — the old friends. Soon they will 
 all be gone, and I shall be left alone." 
 
 Cindie's apron went to her eyes. 
 
 "Forgive me, mammy," said the Doctor, laying his 
 hand on her arm. "I forgot myself. There now ! 
 Don't cry! Let us be cheerful if Uncle William is 
 gone, even if Christmas isn't what it used to be when 
 father and mother were with us." 
 
 Fie dived his hand into his pocket and brought 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 9 
 
 forth some money. He never carried a pocket-book, 
 he thought so httle of the stuff over which men go 
 mad. 
 
 'Tt may be previous of me to give you your 
 Christmas present tonight," he said, "but I'll do it, 
 anyhow. Here is a little money," handing her a ten- 
 dollar note. "I wish it were more, but it is the best 
 I can do. You know how scarce money is, how hard 
 it is to collect. I can't ask for it, even of those able to 
 pay. And I feel ashamed to accept the little offered 
 me, as if I were robbing somebody, as if I hadn't earned 
 the money." 
 
 "Go 'long, chile. You robbin' anybody! Dat 
 'nough to make a chicken laugh, dat sort of talk is ! 
 It's udder folks whar oughts to be 'shamed, not you. 
 It's udder folks whar do de robbin', it's dem whar rob 
 you. Taint you !" 
 
 The old woman looked at the money given her, 
 fingering it appreciatively. Then her eyes gratefully, 
 worshipfully sought the eyes of her handsome young 
 master. 
 
 "Mammy can't tell you, honey, how 'bleeged she 
 is for dis," she said, unsteadily. 
 
 "Don't speak of it. Any mail ?" at the same time 
 walking to his desk and taking up a batch of letters 
 which Aurelius had brought from the postoffice an 
 hour before. 
 
 "Richmond, Va. !" he exclaimed, reading the post- 
 mark on an envelope addressed to him in a feminine 
 hand. "Why," with a start, "it is from Dorothy ! Yes, 
 yes ; there's no mistaking that hand. At last ! At last 
 she has written ! Poor little thing ! What can have 
 happened? Does she need me at last?" 
 
 He awkwardly broke the seal in his feverish de- 
 side to get at the contents : 
 
 Richmond, Va., December 21, 18 — . 
 
 My Best Friend on Earth — Two years and a 
 half ago to-night I dropped out of sight — fled from 
 
10 ' REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Charlottesville, an outcast. It was my wish — it is my 
 wish now — that I be as one dead to all whom I used to 
 know. But the welfare of my child conflicts with that 
 wish, and I break the silence on his account. The lit- 
 tle fellow — Pierre Custis Christian is his name — will 
 be two years old on Christmas Day. As yet he knows 
 nothing of sin and its bitter consequences. As yet he 
 looks up to his abandoned mother as if she were an 
 angel. But the years pass swiftly, and soon — too soon 
 — he must come to a knowledge of it all — learn what 
 he is, learn what I am. And I feel as if I could not 
 face the boy when that day comes. I fear he might 
 loathe me, and righteously so, and I couldn't bear it. 
 Doctor ; I couldn't bear it. I have thought it all over 
 until I am nearly insane, and I see no way out of it save 
 to §end him from me. He must go into another en- 
 vironment, and a wholesome one. He must grow up 
 ignorant of his shame, a stranger to his mother. 
 Though it kill me, I must make the sacrifice for his 
 sake. There are childless women — many of them — 
 who would rejoice to possess the boy for his beauty 
 alone, for no more beautiful child was ever born. But 
 I don't want him brought up among conventional 
 shams ; I don't want him to breathe the atmosphere 
 of "tubercular goodness," to absorb current ideas of 
 right and wrong. He wouldn't hesitate, then, to re- 
 peat his father's crime, to duplicate the misery that 
 Frederick Huntington has wrought. But why worry 
 over a danger that doesn't confront the boy? There is 
 one who will take him to his heart and his home — a 
 man who is all love, all unselfishness ; a man who loves 
 truth and justice as other men love gold and power. 
 I want you. Doctor, to have my boy ; I want you to 
 bring him up — to love him, to mould him. Then he 
 will jjecome a man in whom God will delight. 
 
 Ah! how I misjudged you in the old days! I 
 thought you cold. I was mean enough even to think 
 you jealous of me, because I had come between you 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH ii 
 
 and your best beloved friend. And when I had fallen 
 and the author of my shame left me to bear it all 
 alone, I expected you to cast the first stone because you 
 had loved him so. But no ! I had wronged you. It 
 was then that your divine sense of justice asserted it- 
 self, causing- you to turn from the one you had loved 
 as your life to his friendless victim. It was then that 
 you showed the God in you, the infinite tenderness that 
 was yours. You were so moved with compassion that 
 you would have covered my weakness with your 
 strength, my stain with your whiteness. You would 
 have given your name to my child, then unborn, and 
 the right to call you father. Incomparable magnanim- 
 ity ! I could never have accepted the sacrifice of you, 
 but I shall always rejoice that you offered it. The 
 memory of it alone has kept burning my faith in God 
 and goodness. Is it any wonder that I want my child 
 to live in your presence ? 
 
 My friend, Mr. Nelson, who is going to spend the 
 holidays in Lynchburg, will take Custis to you on his 
 way up Christmas Eve. They will go on the evening 
 train. I suffer so with my heart of late, Doctor, that 
 I can't rest until I know the child is with you. Then 
 death may come whenever it wishes. I shall not care, 
 I am so tired of it all. 
 
 Dorothy Christian. 
 
 Cindie wondered what the contents of the letter 
 were to have moved Dr. Custis so deeply. 
 
 "De same old tale," she thought. "Somebody in 
 a tight hole done writ to him for money or he'p some- 
 ways, and, like he always is, he all worked up 'bout it. 
 Dat's what 'tis." She gave the fire a vigorous poke 
 by way of emphasizing her conclusion in the mat- 
 ter. "If 'taint one pusson 'tis anudder tryin' to git 
 some'n outen him. I dunno how it gwine to eend if 
 he keep on ginnin' way and lendin' out all he got. 
 What gwine to come of de chile arter awhile? Go to 
 de po' house, I reckon. Whar else he gwine when all 
 
12 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 he got done gone? Folks make like it mout}' hard to 
 love udder folks de same what dey love demsevs, but 
 he don't find nufifin 'tall hard 'bout it. It's easy-like 
 for dat chile to love udder folks and do for 'em as for 
 a hog to wallow or an ole ha'r to run. And he don't 
 stop dar whar he tole to stop. He go beyand de spot. 
 He love his neighbor a sight mo'n he love hissef. 
 Dat's what he do. I ain't never seed nobody like 
 him sense Gawd made me." 
 
 Here Dr. Custis raised his eyes from the letter, 
 having read it twice. 
 
 "Mammy," he said, 'T have a Christmas present 
 on the way." 
 ^ The old woman grunted. 
 
 "I lay you got a whole passel on de way," she 
 said. 
 
 "But this present isn't like those one usually 
 gets. I have never received one like it before." 
 I He leaned mysteriously toward her. 
 ' "Mammy," lowering his voice almost to a whisper, 
 "it is a baby — a beautiful boy baby." 
 
 "A baby !" cried Cindie, aghast. "Jesus, come 
 down, will you? What de world comin' to in dese 
 latter days? A baby? Whose baby is it? 'Taint — 
 'taint yourn?" 
 
 "No, it isn't mine," said the physician, blushing. 
 Then, growing suddenly bold, he exclaimed: "Yes, 
 it is mine — mine to love and to care for, and to die 
 for, if need be ! I am not the little one's father after 
 the flesh, but I intend to be a father to him." 
 
 "A baby ! a baby !" repeated the negress. 
 "Marse Pierre, what in de name of Gawd is you 
 gwine to do wid a baby? Now, if it was yourn, I'd 
 keep my mouth shet tight. But I don't hold wid dis 
 takin' up wid udder folks' chillen. Dey never gin 
 you no thanks for it." 
 
 Suddenly she broke into loud laughter. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 13 
 
 "What's the matter, mammy? Why this sudden 
 mirth ?" 
 
 " 'Tis so funny, honey — you takin' a baby to 
 bring up? I 'bleeged to laugh, mammy is. What de 
 folks round heah gwine to say?" 
 
 "I don't care what in the devil they say." 
 
 "What you gwine to do wid de chile, honey? I 
 knows one thing: You gwine to spile dat chile till he 
 rotten." 
 
 "Don't you talk of my spoiling children ! That's 
 a game at which nobody can beat you. That boy 
 will not have been here twenty-four hours before 
 you will be his abject slave. Mark my words !" 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "Mammy," he went on, "you know I have al- 
 ways confided in you as I did in mother." 
 
 "You kin trus' me, honey ; you know dat. Ain't 
 nobody on Gawd's earth ever gwine git outen dis 
 nigger what you don't want 'em to know." 
 
 "I believe that." 
 
 He looked at the letter, then up at Cindie. 
 
 "The little stranger to arrive here tonight," he 
 began, "came into the world unwelcomed, at least by 
 his father. There was no rejoicing at the little one's 
 birth — no exchange of telegrams, no congratu- 
 lations, no ostentatious church christening. He was 
 begotten and born out of wedlock — that's the reason! 
 But he couldn't help it, poor little chap ! And he 
 must never know of it. The community, too, must 
 be kept in ignorance of the bey's history. Mammy," 
 after a pause, "you remembf^r my old chum, Fred 
 Huntington, who spent the -summer here the year 
 before mother died?" 
 
 "To be sho', I does." 
 
 "Ah, me ! How I lov^.d that boy in those old 
 happy University days ! I would have died for 
 him !" 
 
 "And you don't love him now?" 
 
14 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "What? Love a man who betrays a pure, trust- 
 ing girl, and, his passion appeased, flings her aside, 
 a soiled thing, a candidate for damnation?" 
 
 "Den dis baby whar comin' heah is Mr. Hunt- 
 ington's child — his'n and de gal's whar he ruined?" 
 
 "Yes ; you have guessed correctly." 
 
 "Whar she — de chile's mother?" 
 
 "Why, she — she — is in a house of shame, I pre- 
 sume. But she was driven to it, poor thing — driven 
 to it by the 'rarity of Christian charity.' All doors 
 were closed against her when her sin was known, 
 but all remained open to her betrayer — except mine! 
 Had he dared to enter my door I would have killed 
 him as I would have killed a snake !" 
 
 Cindie ventured no remark, and after a time Dr. 
 Custis spoke again. 
 
 "What a sweet slip of a girl she was !" he ex- 
 claimed, more to himself than to Cindie. "God! 
 Where can a man's conscience or heart be to de- 
 flower a child like that and then cast her away like 
 a withered rose?" 
 
 "De ways of men folks is pas' finding out, 
 honey," observed Cindie, as she rose to light the 
 lamp. 
 
 Dr. Custis smiled, confident that he was hon- 
 ored among her exceptions to the rule, and singing 
 softly some old revival hymn whose theology he 
 would have strenuously combated, went out to prepare 
 for his drive to the station. 
 
 After awhile he returned in gloves and top 
 coat. 
 
 "It is snowing furiously," he said, "and the wind 
 *'.is just wild. We arc going to have a terrific night." 
 
 "Ain't you gwine eat 'fo' you go?" inquired Cin- 
 die. 
 
 "No, I don't feel like it. ]\Limmy, do you know I 
 am positively eager to see that little chap? I feel as 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 15 
 
 if we were going to have grand times together — you, 
 and he and I." 
 
 "I hopes so, honey ; but I ain't counting chickens 
 tell dey pips de aig, and I ain't too fas' 'bout it den, 
 'cause dey mouten be strong 'nough to peck deir way 
 outen de shell, arter all." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 In the face of a biting, blinding blizzard, such as 
 Virginia had not known in years, the Custis carriage 
 made its way to Elk Bluff that night, arriving at the 
 station ten minutes before train time. 
 
 "Dis one dem nights whar gwinc to be talked 
 'bout," declared Uncle Reuben, as he got down from 
 his scat and proceeded to open the door of the vehicle. 
 "If .t keep up at dis gallop, de snow of '57 gwine drap 
 out ricklection — 'twon't be a shovelful whar dis 
 snow is." 
 
 "It is quite a snow," remarked Dr. Custis, who 
 never got unduly excited about the weather. "And 
 there are no indications of its abating. Uncle Reuben, 
 look after the horses, and then join me in the waiting- 
 room-" 
 
 "You better b'lieve I is," chuckled Cindie's mate, 
 looking after the hurrying figure of the physician. 
 "You ain't cottin' dis nigger standin' out heah letlin' 
 de snow make one white man outen him if dar's a 
 han'ful of hot ashes anywhars round. Git up heah, 
 Fleetfoot !" climbing back into his seat and giving the 
 horse so named a taste of the whip. "Go 'long, boss ! 
 What I feed you for? Git up heah. Kit! How come 
 you ac' in dis unladylike way? I hopes to Gawd dat 
 Marse Pierre won't have to meet no mo' babies ; leas'- 
 ways, in sech weather as dis is." 
 
 Here a voice, unmistakably African, cut the snow- 
 muffled air: 
 
 "Is dat you. Brer Reuben?" 
 
 16 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 17 
 
 "Hi! What fool's dat hollin' at me like I ain't 
 got no yeahs?" 
 
 "It's me, Brer Reuben ! Don't you know Jeems 
 Bowles ?" 
 
 "Gawd A'mouty ! I mout aknowed 'twas dat 
 cymblin'-jawed, catlish-mouf nigger hollin' at me like 
 he was callin' up hawgs. Jeems Bowles ! Jeems 
 Bowles! Don't I know Jeems Bowles? Mebbe if I 
 hadn't knowed you like I does, my ole belly would 
 aknowed mo' watermillions and chicken gizards. 
 Look here, nigger I What brung you way up heah dis 
 ungawdly night? Is you done spied some fat pullets 
 round Elk Bluff? Is dar no mo' hens down yo' way 
 to 'lope wid dese winter nights?" 
 
 The waiting-room, shut out from the telegrapher's 
 cage, was an apartment of ten by twelve feet — not 
 more — and contained a stove, a water pail, two chairs, 
 the same number of benches, and a box of sawdust to 
 receive the amber deposits of tobacco-eating patrons 
 and employes of the road, 
 
 "Hello, Doctor !" shouted the youthful operator, 
 catching a glimpse of Dr. Custis through the aper- 
 ture in his pen as the physician entered the waiting- 
 room. 
 
 "How are you, Lee? And how is the C. and O. 
 treating you these days ?" 
 
 "Like a darned slave. I wanted to go home for 
 Christmas, but it was impossible to get off. Come 
 to meet somebody from Richmond?" 
 
 "Yes, a little friend. Is the train on time?" 
 
 "She is two hours late — that's all." 
 
 "The devil!" 
 
 "And it will be worse than the devil if this weather 
 keeps up. Everything will be at a standstill. Dandy 
 night, isn't it?" 
 
 "A pretty riotous evening." 
 
 "I don't envy you your trip back to-night." 
 
i8 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "It will be tough pulling, but I presume we'll get 
 home, somehow. Bless my soul ! Here's Aunt Millie ! 
 Howdy ?" extending his hand to an old colored woman, 
 who had just come in, accompanied by a dusky damsel 
 of calycanthus hue. 
 
 "Dis is me," laughed Aunt Millie. "Leas'ways, 
 what's lef of me, honey." 
 
 "What's left of you? Why, there's more of you 
 than when I saw you last! You were all twisted up 
 with rheumatism then. Do you think this jaunt out 
 to-night will help you?" 
 
 "Well, you see, we come — me and 'Liza dar — we 
 come to meet Delilah. Delilah she in service up Nawth 
 now, you know, and she comin' home to-night to spen' 
 de Chris'mas. I don't spec' I'll suffer fum comin' out. 
 Tell you de trufe, honey, I ain't had one Gawd's bit 
 of de rheumatiz sense you subscribed for me dat time. 
 Jeems he laughs and tells me 'twas de sight of you 
 more'n de physic you gin me whar made me well, 
 and I spec' Jeems he 'bout right, but I ain't gwine let 
 on to dat fool nigger I 'gree wid him. ]\Ien folks too 
 wise in deir own conceits, anyways. Hi ! Dar's Brer 
 Reuben!" as that individual shuffled into the room. 
 "Whar you come fum, nigger? Whar dat Jeems 
 Bowles of mine ?" 
 
 "He outside arguing scripter wid a passel of 
 udder fool niggers. It mout keep dem warm, but it 
 don't heat dis nigger's cackuss." 
 
 Here Dr. Custis slipped out of the room and over 
 to the one store that Elk Bluff boasted — a general mer- 
 chandise concern, kept by one Hiram Hardie. 
 
 "Howdy, Doctor? Howdy?" cried Ben Hardie, 
 the sixteen-year-old son of the storekeeper. 
 
 "How are you, Ben ? How are you. son ?" 
 
 The youth was wrapping up a pound of coarse 
 crimson and white candy for old Elijah Meadows, 
 famous over in the Antioch neighborhood because of 
 his abbreviated trousers and chronic pessimism. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 19 
 
 "Want anything else, Mr. Meadows?" asked 
 young Hardie, eager to get to Dr. Custis. 
 
 "What's the price of them thar plums?" 
 
 The short-trousered pessimist drew forth a red 
 bandana with a series of significant knots in one corner. 
 
 "Raisins, you mean?" said the boy merchant, ma- 
 liciously. 
 
 "Ain't no law agin my calling 'em plums, is thar?" 
 demanded Meadows, severely. 
 
 Dr. Custis had sauntered to where the toys were. 
 It was a meagre assortment, but he got out of it a 
 drum, horn, wagon, box of alphabet blocks and an 
 illustrated story book for tots, and when, at length, Ben 
 came bounding to serve him, he told the boy to wrap 
 up the articles he had selected. When Ben had done 
 so, he and the Doctor took them out to the carriage. 
 The snow was still falling fast. In places it had drifted 
 a foot or more. 
 
 "If it keeps up like this," observed Mr. Hardie, as 
 Dr. Custis and Ben returned to the store, "it will beat 
 the snow of '57, when your grandfather was frozen to 
 death going home from visiting a patient. Ben, you 
 lazy young rascal, go put some more wood on that 
 fire. Would you have your poor old daddy work 
 himself to death?" 
 
 The prosperous country merchant stroked his 
 globe-shaped abdomen, chuckling good-naturedly the 
 while. 
 
 "I'm not sorry this day is over. We've certainly 
 hustled, haven't we, Benjy?" 
 
 "You bet. Say, Doctor, what's the matter with 
 your staying with us to-night?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Mr. Hardie. "I slipped in and 
 told your mother to prepare a room for him while 
 y'all was out toting them drum and things to the 
 carriage. You know, Pierre, thar's always a bed 
 and a chair at the table in my house for you." 
 
20 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "I know that, Mr. Hardie, but I couldn't stay to- 
 night." 
 
 "Why not?" demanded the merchant. 
 
 "Please, Doctor," pleaded Ben. 
 
 "I couldn't, my boy. I am expecting company 
 myself." 
 
 "What of it? We've room for you and your 
 company both," persisted Ben. "You might all get 
 lost in the blizzard and freeze to death like your 
 grandpa did in 1857." 
 
 "That would be sad," smiled the physician, strok- 
 ing the boy's auburn hair. "However, we'll run the 
 risk." 
 
 "Well, Pierre, if you can't stay," said the elder 
 Ilardie, "we'll have a glass of Christmas eggnog to- 
 gether. Ben, son, run and tell your mother to send 
 me some milk and one of her pound cakes. Pierre 
 Cusfis's mouth is watering for a slice, tell her. That'll 
 fetch the cake." 
 
 As the boy scampered away on his errand his 
 father brought forth a bowl, the requisite quantity of 
 brandy, eggs, sugar and other ingredients, and, rolling 
 up his sleeves, proceeded to make the beverage once 
 so popular in Dixie at Yuletide. 
 
 Presently Ben returned with a pitcher of milk 
 and a large pound cake that was a culinary poem. 
 
 "Mamma says nobody but Pierre Custis could 
 make her break her lot of Christmas cakes before to- 
 morrow," said Ben, laughing. 
 
 "What I tell you?" chuckled his father. "I 
 dunno which is more stuck on you, Pierre — the old 
 woman or this kid." 
 
 And, continuing to chuckle, Mr. Hardie went on 
 with his eggnog making. 
 
 When it was done, a glass was sent to Mrs. 
 Hardie. Then the men each drank a glass for auld 
 lang syne's sake. One glass, however, failed to sat- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 21 
 
 isfy the storekeeper. So he gulped down another, and 
 insisted on the Doctor's doing hkewise, but the latter 
 wisely declined. He and Ben, though, made repeated 
 assaults upon the pound cake until more than half of 
 it was gone. 
 
 "Really, I am ashamed of myself," confessed the 
 physician. "But, you see, I was wolfishly hungry, 
 having come off without supper, and then Mrs. Hardie, 
 without a doubt, makes the best pound cake on earth." 
 
 "You're right thar," warmly assented that lady's 
 husband. "Have some more ? Just as well finish it up." 
 
 "I'll take some more," said Ben. 
 
 "Bound for you, you young hog! Pierre, can't 
 you give that boy something to check that ungodly 
 appetite of hisn ? I 'clar' he'll eat me out of house and 
 home." 
 
 ^ 51: H: * * * * 
 
 When Dr. Custis returned to the waiting-room, 
 an hour later, he found Uncle Reuben asleep — vocifer- 
 ously so ; his lips alienated, his shoulders on a de- 
 cided bias. 
 
 "Awake, Uncle Reuben !" shouted the physician, 
 shaking him. "Awake! The train is coming!" 
 
 "Who dat coming?" came the stupid response 
 from the half -a wakened negro. 
 
 ■ "The train is coming. Go get the carriage ready !" 
 
 The old negro got to his feet at last, while his 
 master hurried out to the platform. 
 
 The train was sweeping around the curve in the 
 road just below. A moment more, and it stopped, 
 puffing and snorting. 
 
 Dr. Custis sprang aboard and into the first car, 
 A young man with a child in his arms was coming 
 toward him. 
 
 "Is this Dr. Custis ?" asked the stranger. 
 
 "I am he. And you are I\Ir. Nelson?" 
 
22 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Yes, and here Is a Christmas present I have 
 brought you — the loveHest and Hvelicst one you ever 
 got." 
 
 "And this is the httle chap, is it?" said the Doc- 
 tor, and his smile was half of awe, half of adoration — a 
 smile such as I amagine was seen on the faces of the 
 star-led Magi when they beheld the Babe of Bethlehem 
 
 "What a beautiful, beautiful child !" he exclaimed, 
 taking the little one's dimpled hand in his. 
 
 "There could be no conflicting opinions there," 
 said young Nelson. "And he is the dearest little 
 fellow in the world — one of these little rogues you 
 want to be hugging all the time. It broke his heart to 
 be torn from his mother ; but, fortunately, he fell asleep 
 soon after we got on the train and has slept all the 
 way up." 
 
 "Poor little chap !" murmured the Doctor, as Nel- 
 son placed the youngster in his arms. "Poor little 
 chap !" he repeated, and a tear he could not restrain fell 
 on the little one's cheek. The child opened his eyes — 
 big blue eyes that borrowed their blue from summer 
 skies. Half asleep, half awake, he smiled seraphically, 
 and, as if satisfied with the transfer, coiled his little 
 arm around the stout, virile neck of the man who 
 held him and, closing his eyes, slipped back into slum- 
 berland. The Doctor imbedded his lips in the sunny 
 hair, and in that kiss, to him a sacrament, his heart 
 became the boy's for time and eternity. 
 
 "I would love to have you go home with us, Mr. 
 Nelson." 
 
 "I couldn't to-night. Doctor. ]\Iy people expect 
 me to spend Christmas with thein. But if you would 
 kindly meet me on my return — say New Year's eve — 
 I'll stop over a day or two with you." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 "I want to see more of you, to know you better." 
 
 "I'll certainly meet you. On New Year's eve, 
 you say ?" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 23 
 
 "Yes. Here's the check for the Httle fellow's 
 
 baggage. Good-by. Merry Christmas !" 
 
 "Thank you. The same to you. Good-bye." 
 And the train moved again on its way through the 
 
 wild, white night. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 "I must've drapped off to sleep !" 
 
 And Cindie sprang to her feet, looking stupidly 
 about her. 
 
 The clock began to strike the hour of midnight. 
 
 "Hi! li dat ain't twelve o'clock, and dem folks 
 ain't come home yit! I can't 'count for deir stayin' 
 so, less dey done got los' in de snow. Lawd Gawd ! 
 Look at dat nigger dar sprawled out like he stone 
 dead ! 'Rclius ! 'Relius ! You yaller rascal, you !" 
 as sh€ stooped and rudely shook her grandson, who 
 lay asleep on the floor. "Git up heah, boy ! Git up, I 
 tell you, an' stop dat low-life racket w^id dat mouf o' 
 yourn. I 'clar if you don't sno' loud 'nough to 'sturb 
 de folks layin' out in de graveyard. Nobody else kin 
 sleep a wink whar you is. Git up heah, nigger!" as 
 she shook him again. "Heap o' comp'ny you is, ain't 
 you ? 'Relius ! 'Relius ! I done called you for de 
 las' time." 
 
 Marcus Aurelius, awakened at last, slowly got to 
 his feet, rubbing his eyes with his fist. 
 
 "Eat and sleep ! Eat and sleep !" exclaimed his 
 mother's mother. "Dat's all you do, and dat's all a 
 hog do. Eat all day and sleep all night ! What sort o' 
 'sociate is you bin to me to-night, sprawled out dar on 
 de flo' sno'in' loud 'nough for de folks down at de 
 cross roads to heah you? Bugglers or highway house 
 breakers mout o' come and kilt me dead and toted ofiE 
 
 24 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 25 
 
 ev'rything in de house and you'd never knowed it in 
 Gawd's world !" 
 
 "What you want 'long o' me?" asked the boy. 
 "I is heah to do it, ain't I?" 
 
 "All I wants you to do now is to peel off dem 
 duds o' yourn and go 'long to bed like white folks. 
 So 'clar off or I'll tell Marse Pierre not to gin you a 
 Gawd's thing for Chris'mas. You's heern me speak? 
 And you knows I mean what I say ?" 
 
 Aurelius grinned skeptically and lingered in the 
 face of the dire threat. 
 
 "Granny," he said, his eyes fixed longingly on the 
 table spread for the Doctor. "Granny, Fs got sech 
 a gnawin' down heah. Please, marm, gin me a piece 
 of bread and some 'serves." 
 
 "Hungry arter all dat vittles whar you ram down 
 you at supper? What I tole you 'bout yo' eatin' and 
 sleepin' ? Warn't I tellin' de trufe ?" 
 
 "Yes, marm ; you tole de trufe ; you always 
 tells it." 
 
 "You ain't gwine curry favor wid me now, boy, 
 to git some'n to eat, for I ain't gwine gin you a 
 mou'ful." 
 
 "I thinks you mout, granny. You dunno what a 
 gnawin' I's got," 
 
 "I 'clar', boy, if you ain't de tantalizin'est nigger 
 whar I ever rund 'cross. You werry de life outen me. 
 Talk 'bout de patience whar Job had! It warn't no- 
 whars 'longside o' de patience I has to have whar 
 you is." 
 
 "Please, granny, gin me some bread and 'serves. 
 I'll go right to bed as fas' as my feet kin tote me." 
 
 "You clar you will?" 
 
 "I clar I will !" 
 
 She went to the table, cut off a slice of her unsur- 
 passed light bread, and, spreading it thickly with dam- 
 son preserves, handed it to the boy, who began to 
 devour it as though he were perishing of hunger. 
 
26 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Whyn't you chaw yo' vittles, nigger?" demanded 
 Cindie. "Ain't you live long 'nougli wid white folks 
 to know how to eat yit ?" 
 
 "I dunno how to eat ! Dat's one thing I was cert'n 
 I knowed how to do!" 
 
 "You know how to swallcr things whole, but dat 
 ain't eatin'. Eatin' is chawin' ; dat's what 'tis. Don't 
 you know you got to gin 'count of all yo' doin's some 
 day, nigger?" 
 
 But Marcus Aurelius was too gross a materialist 
 to feel any anxiety about the remote future, its retribu- 
 tions or its rewards. 
 
 "Dat's de purtiest baked tukkey I ever seed, 
 granny," he said, teasingly, "and it smell sweeter'n any 
 'fumery." 
 
 "You brazen hound-nigger, you ! What you 
 mean by all dat hintin'? Does you reckon you kin 
 temp' me to slash into dat tukkey for you? If you 
 does, you's countin' on eggs hatchin' whar ain't got 
 no chickens in 'em. 'Clar off to bed, now, or dar won't 
 be a grease spot lef of you when I git done wid you. 
 Whar you 'spec to go to, boy, when you die?" 
 
 "Whar you goes." 
 
 "Whar I goes? H you come whar I is I ain't 
 gwine know you. 'Clar off now ! How many times 
 I got tell you? You hard-headed yellow devil you!" 
 
 She made a movement as if to strike him, but 
 he sprang out of her reach and, with a laugh, darted 
 from the room. 
 
 "I lay dat boy ain't got kivver 'nough on his bed," 
 reflected his grandmother, and she called to him: 
 
 "'Relius! Oh, 'Relius!" 
 
 "Marm !" 
 
 "If you ain't got kivver 'nough, honey, go in my 
 room and git a blanket or quilt outen de chist." 
 
 She turned and went upstairs to look after the 
 fire she had built in the Doctor's bed-room an hour 
 ago. As she touched the bottom step on her way back 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 27 
 
 the front door opened and in walked Dr. Custis with 
 his Httle charge. 
 
 "Well, mammy, we are home again!" he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Gawd knows I glad 'nough you is." 
 
 "It was certainly tough work getting here, but I 
 managed to keep our little man-child dry and warm." 
 
 "I lay you'd done dat if you frez yo'sef. And 
 dat's him,'is'it?" 
 
 "This is he. Isn't he beautiful?" 
 
 He placed the child, still asleep, in her arms. 
 
 "Say, isn't he beautiful ?" he repeated. 
 
 "He cert'n is. He purtier dan one angel. Whar 
 did you git dis paradise-lookin' chile fum, anyway? 
 But I ain't gwine praise him no mo', 'cause you'll 
 stand heah till mawnin' wid dem wet trappings on. Go 
 right straight upstars now and git in some dry close. 
 Go 'long, go 'long ! I kin 'tend to de chile." 
 
 And without further ado, she repaired to the fire, 
 bearing the sleeping youngster in her arms. 
 
 Dr. Custis, thus deserted, laughed gleefully — he 
 had not been so happy in a long time — and ran up- 
 stairs, singing softly : 
 
 "Calm on the listening ear of night 
 Come heaven's melodious strains, 
 
 Where wild Judea stretches far 
 Her silver-mantled plains." 
 
 The fire, restored by Cindie's strenuous coaxing 
 and the application of several fresh logs, was burning 
 vigorously. On the rug, enjoying the warmth of the 
 blaze, lay stretched Rebel, the physician's Maltese cat. 
 "You know how to enjoy life, don't you, Reb?" 
 The animal opened his eyes and rolled over on 
 his back, disclosing his beautiful belly, white as the 
 snow falling without ; then, enwreathing his head with 
 his forefeet, he looked up at his master, inviting a 
 caress. But the young man's thoughts w^ere of the 
 
28 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 little lad downstairs, and, eager to return to him, he 
 hurriedly got out of his top coat and boots, 
 
 "Poor Dorothy!" he mused. "How lonely she 
 must be to-night without the little chap ! And how he 
 will niiss her when he awakens ! I dread it, for I 
 won't know what to do except, perhaps, to cry with 
 him, I feel so sorry for him. But mammy will be 
 equal to the occasion, she has always been such a child 
 charmer. There ! he has awakened. He is crying — 
 crying for his mother. Poor little chap ! He misses 
 her so ; he wants her. Nobody else can take her place ; 
 her breast is his home. Poor little chap! / kv.ozv! I 
 have been there. We have all been there, but we 
 forget." 
 
 He hastily drew on his slippers and went down- 
 stairs, two steps at a bound. Mammy sat before the 
 fire rocking the little one, who was sobbing piteously 
 for his mother. 
 
 And Dr. Custis, his heart wrung by the child's 
 loneliness, went to him, laid his hand on his head and 
 murmured : 
 
 "Custis, son !" 
 
 It was all he said ; it was all he could say, but 
 there was a tenderness in his voice that carried healing 
 to the boy's spirit. ?Ie ceased at once to cry ; his eyes 
 sought those looking upon him with such unutterable 
 love, and as Dr. Custis stretched forth his arms to- 
 ward him, the little one sprang into them as into the 
 embrace of his mother. 
 
 "Hi! Did you see dat?" chuckled Cindie. some- 
 what piqued. "Dat chile ain't bin used to black folks, 
 I 'spec he takes me for old Nick's wife." 
 
 "Fie does nothing of the kind. The little chap 
 is out of sorts to-night, naturally, away from his 
 mother. So be patient with him, I wonder if he can 
 be hungry? Are you, son? Warm some milk for 
 him, mammy." 
 
 "Didn't I done it while you was upstars and he 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 29 
 
 wouldn't tech it? Didn't I crumble some nice fresli, 
 light bread in de milk and he turn his head off like 
 twarn't clean? But mebbe you kin git him to eat it." 
 
 "Perhaps he wasn't hungry then?" 
 
 "How come he ain't hungry one minute and den 
 hungry de nex' ? Heah, you try him." 
 
 "All right," he said, taking tlie bowl of infantile 
 food from her. 
 
 He filled the spoon and put it to the boy's lips. 
 The sweet, red mouth opened, and without the least 
 hesitancy he swallowed the food. Thus encouraged. 
 Dr. Custis continued to feed him until, at length, the 
 child indicated he had enough by turning away with a 
 sigh and dropping his head on the physician's breast. 
 
 "Take this, please, mammy," said Dr. Custis, 
 handing the bowl back to Cindie. "He wants to go 
 to sleep again. Don't you, son?" kissing the little 
 fellow's hair, then his cheeks, next his hands. "Did 
 Uncle Reuben bring in his valise? Yes, there it is, 
 and here is the key. Mammy, will you see if there is 
 a night shirt among his clothes?" 
 
 He handed her the key, and, standing little Custis 
 on the rug, proceeded to disrobe him without any pro- 
 test whatever from the youngster, who seem^ed to re- 
 gard it as the next move in the game. 
 
 "Hi ! What a whole passel of close !" exclaimed 
 Cindie. "Dey jes' packed in dis thing. Dar's a plenty 
 to las' de chile tell he ole 'nough to war britches. But 
 ain't dis dress purty?" holding up a delicate white 
 garment. "And heah's anudder jes' as purty, and so 
 is dis heah one. I 'spec he look sweet 'nough to eat 
 in arry one o' 'em." 
 
 "He would look that in anything, or in nothing — 
 indeed, sweetest in nothing, just as he is now," said 
 Dr. Custis, as he removed the boy's last garment. "Ye 
 pagan gods ! What a superb youngster ! How per- 
 fectly he is put together ! What arms ! What legs ! 
 What a chest ! He is a poem, tliis boy is !" 
 
30 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 And the child-lover fell to kissing the lad with 
 a passion such as only mothers feel. 
 
 "Tiss me adin," said the youngster, with a smile 
 approaching laughter when the Doctor ceased. And 
 the Doctor kissed him again, following the kiss with 
 a pretense of biting the boy's arm, at which the child 
 broke into laughter, filling the room with the sweetest 
 music ever heard there. And his laughter carried con- 
 tagion, for the next moment Dr. Custis and Cindie 
 were laughing with him, and as they had not laughed 
 in years. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Dr. Ciistis was awakened by the coming of 
 Aurelius to make the fire, a log falHng from the boy's 
 arms just as he passed the physician's bed. 
 
 "Christmas gift, 'Rebus!" 
 
 The lad started, dropping the remainder of his 
 fire wood. 
 
 "Lawd Jesus, Marse Pierre! Did I woke you up 
 when I drap dat chunk of wood ?" 
 
 "It is my belief that you did." 
 
 " 'Fo' Gawd, I didn't done it on purpose." 
 
 "You wouldn't be living now if you had, you 
 villain !" 
 
 Aurelius grinned as if he doubted it, and, turn- 
 ing, struck a match and proceeded to build a fire. 
 
 "Is it still snowing, 'Relius ?" 
 
 "Yas, sub, and 'tis deep as torment, de snow is. 
 Out in de open it done drifted higher'n I is. Heah 
 on de lawn it done most kivvered up de rose bushes 
 and boxwood. I ain't ric'lec' seein' no snow like dis 
 heah one sense Jesus puffed bref in me, is you?" 
 
 "Yes ; one or two." 
 
 "I ain't, and I tells you now dat dis nigger 'ginning 
 to git skeered. 'Spose it keep on snowin' and snowin' 
 tell it kivver de house up ? What we gwine do ? And 
 'tis cole out dose, man ! It pucker yo' skin all up in 
 little bumps wussen an ole goose's skin." 
 
 "I trust no one will imagine he needs me to-day," 
 
 31 
 
32 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 said Dr. Custis. "This is a clay a fellow likes to hug 
 the fire." 
 
 "I hopes myself nohody will be fool 'nougli to send 
 for you," observed Aurelius, sympathetically, as he 
 rose from his knees and surveyed the fire preparatory 
 to throwing on a log or two. "But I lay somebody 
 gwine send for you fo' de mawnin' done gone. Dese 
 folks 'bout heah ain't got a Gawd's bit of 'sideration 
 for you. H dey runs a splinter in deir big toe, you got 
 to go to pull it out for 'em. And dese pizen niggers 
 is a heap sight wussen white folks." 
 
 Deeming the fire strong enough to lick up the logs 
 he had been holding, the speaker here tossed them 
 into the embrace of the greedy flames. 
 
 "j\Iarse Pierre, I is mouty 'bleeged to you for de 
 par of boots and gloves and dat skeer face — I had jes' 
 sot my 'fections on dat skeer face — and all dem 'fec- 
 tioneries whar you stuff my sock wid. I lay dar ain't 
 narry nigger nowhars rovmd dese diggings dat's far'd 
 like I done far'd dis Chris'mas." 
 
 "Does that fact give you pleasure, my boy?" 
 
 "Cert'n'y it do." 
 
 "Then you don't wish others to fare as well 
 as you ?" 
 
 There was a note of pain in the Doctor's voice, 
 which the youth was quick to detect, and it worried 
 him. 
 
 "Well, suh, not 'zactly," he stammered. "I dunno 
 dat I is equal to de 'mergency of 'splainin' myself to 
 yo' satisfaction, but dis is de way I views de matter : 
 You see, if I has more'n de udder niggers — I mean if 
 de udder niggers don't git much as I git — I sort o' 
 'preciate mo' what I gits dan I'd 'preciate it if dey all 
 was to git de same whar I git." 
 
 "Then you don't wish to see others well and 
 itrong? Good health would be too common then. You 
 couldn't appreciate it unless others were frail and dis- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 33 
 
 eased? You wouldn't like to see everybody have 
 enough to eat? You could relish your own food so 
 much more if you knew that some poor devils around 
 you were starving to death ? You wouldn't like to see 
 everybody warm in weather like this? You would 
 have your neighbors shiver and freeze? The contrast 
 would make your own fire such a luxury to you." 
 
 "For Jesus' sake, Marse Pierre !" cried Aurelius. 
 "If you don't stop scorchin' me up like dat, Fll drap 
 dead wid shame right whar I is. I 'clar I will !" 
 
 " 'Relius, you are an individualist, I fear." 
 
 "What dat, Marse Pierre? Some'n scan'lous sin- 
 ful, I lay?" _ 
 
 "Well, individualist is the polite name for a selfish 
 person — a person who doesn't care if all the world goes 
 to the devil so long as he doesn't." 
 
 "Brer Jasper he one den. What you reckon he 
 sez, Marse Pierre? I heern him say no longer'n las' 
 Sunday down at Shiloh dat de greatest joy whar de 
 saints '11 have up in heaven is gwine to be to look down 
 in hell and feas' deir eyes on de millions and millions 
 of sinners burnin' and roastin' dar and hollin' to Mr. 
 Devil please gin 'em a drap of water to cool deir 
 parchin' tongues wid. 'Twould make de redeemed, 
 Brer Jasper sez, 'preciate de glories of heaven and 
 praise Jesus louder for savin' dem to see de miseries 
 and de burnings of de wicked in de lake of fire and 
 brimstone." 
 
 "The damned old gorilla!" was the Doctor's com- 
 ment. 
 
 "You don't believe in no hell, does you, Marse 
 Pierre?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe in hell. How can one get away 
 from the fact when it confronts one everywhere?" 
 
 "Whar 'tis?" cried the lad, moving nearer his 
 master. 
 
 "It is wherever selfishness is, wherever ignorance 
 is. And heaven is wherever love is, wherever wisdom 
 
34 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 is, be it in this world or any other world. Once every 
 three hundred and sixty-five days the earth takes on a 
 little of the nature of heaven, but the 26th of December 
 finds it more firmly frozen than ever in selfishness, as 
 if ashamed of the little thawing the memory of Jesus 
 had given it the day before. We have come once again 
 to this annual thawing of humanity, so let us make the 
 most of it." 
 
 Dr. Custis was about to spring out of bed, when 
 his little bed-fellow stirred in his sleep and flung his 
 arm across his breast. 
 
 "Darling little chap ! Did I disturb you, son, by 
 my loud tongue- wagging ?" and the Doctor took the 
 little hand in his, kissing it softly. 
 
 "Marse Pierre, lem me look at him !" whispered 
 'Relius, advancing a step or two on tip toe. "I bin 
 itchin' all de mawnin' to git a peep at dat boy." 
 
 "Well, here he is," smiled the physician, as he 
 gently removed the child's arm from his breast and, 
 throwing off the cover, sprang to the floor. 
 
 "Ain't he purty?" grinned the mulatto lad, in 
 genuine admiration. 
 
 "Pretty? He is beautiful!" amended his master. 
 
 "He is dat. Look at dem dents in his jaws!" 
 
 "Those are dimples in his cheeks, you mutilator of 
 English ! Why is it, 'Relius, you zvill talk like a negro?" 
 
 " 'Cause I one myself, I reckon. 'Dat's how come." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Little Custis, garmented in white, sat before the 
 fire, surrounded by his Christmas presents — and his 
 adoring svibjects, who were regarding his every move- 
 ment as though a child were a new thing under the 
 sun. 
 
 "Beat de dum turn mo', Welius," he commanded, 
 turning to the youth, who was in high favor at court 
 just now because of the proficiency he had shown as a 
 drummer. 
 
 Aurelius rolled over on his right side — he had 
 been lying on his abdomen, heels ceilingward — and 
 gave forth one of his loud laughs, 
 
 "Now, jes' lis'n at dat nigger's hoss laugh," ob- 
 served his grandmother, good-naturedly. "No wonder 
 de chile star at you, boy, like he dunno what to make 
 of you." 
 
 "Tustis lubs to hear Welius laugh," declared the 
 little fellow. 
 
 And Aurelius, thus licensed to laugh and as loudly 
 as he wished, rolled over on his left side and roared, 
 smashing all his previous records at laughing. 
 
 Dr. Custis sat enjoying it all, his eyes radiant with 
 mirth, his mouth open as if on the brink of laughter 
 himself. 
 
 "Beat the drum for him, 'Relius," he said. "That 
 seems to interest him more than anything else." 
 
 Aurelius seized the drum and sprang to his feet, 
 while little Custis also got to his, and, running to the 
 
 35 
 
36 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 physician, took his stand between the latter's legs, with 
 a hand on each knee. The Doctor entwined his arm 
 about the httle figure, and, lowering his hps until they 
 touched the boy's hair, baptized them in the living gold. 
 Here Reuben, who had been out in his quarters 
 enjoying his corn-cob pipe in solitude, shuffled into 
 the room. 
 
 "Hi ! What y'all think ?" he cried. "Dar's a ca'idge 
 comin' and it looks jes' like Miss 'Ria's turnout for 
 de world." 
 
 "Go 'way, nigger!" sniffed his incredulous spouse. 
 "I knowed you was drinkin' too much of dat cggnog, 
 but you wouldn't lis'n to me." 
 
 "H you couldn't work yo' tongue you'd drap 
 dead," retorted old Reuben. "I ain't no more upsot 
 fum dat eggnog dan what you is." 
 
 "Den you dreamin'. What you reckon ole Miss 
 'Ria comin' heah a day like dis for?" 
 
 "Ain't I sawd de ca'idge an' ole Dan'l Jcrd'n 
 sottin' up drivin' of it? And don't you reckon I know 
 dat ole gray mar' of Miss 'Ria's?" 
 
 Dr. Custis, in the meantime, had gone to the 
 window to see for himself. 
 
 "Yes, it is Cousin Maria," he said. "That's her 
 carriage. But what on earth brings her out in weather 
 like this? Surely not in the interest of diocesan mis- 
 sions ?" 
 
 "Don't you know what done brung ole Miss 'Ria 
 out to-day?" said Cindie, all doubt now removed. "De 
 same thing whar made ole Eve itch tell she pull dat 
 apple and made Adam take a bite outen it. Miss 'Ria's 
 done heern 'bout dat chile someways, and she come to 
 find out all 'bout him. all de whys and wharforcs. I 
 tells you now she ain't pumpin' dis nigger. Cindie's 
 tongue gwine be par'lyzed whar dat 'oman is, I 
 knows her of ole, I does. You knows what (ley scz 
 'bout Miss 'Ria? Miss May Jane Pilcher sez she'll 
 swar on a stack of Bibles higher'n de sky dat ole Miss 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 37 
 
 'Ria sots down in a book de day dat ev'ry gal gits 
 married whar she knows and den de day when de 
 fus' chile is bawn and woe be to dat po' gal whar has 
 a baby 'fo' de 'pinted time. She ain't nobody arter 
 de accident whar done 'fell her in ole Miss 'Ria's eyes." 
 "What in the devil is she standing out there all 
 this time jawing with Uncle Daniel for?" exclaimed 
 Dr. Custis. 
 
 "Ain't dat ]\Iiss 'Ria over and over? I lay she 
 ain't got nigh 'nough close on." 
 
 "Whose fault is it if she hasn't?" 
 
 "Hern, to be sho, I 'clar' 'tis one mortal sin de 
 way dat white 'oman do stint herself in close and 
 vittles, wid all de money and houses and gov'men' 
 bonds whar she got. Now, if she 'nied herself to gin 
 to po' folks, I would shet my mouf tight, and hole it 
 shet ; but who ever heern tell of ole Miss 'Ria's ginning 
 a cent's worth to anybody 'cep'n she beg it fust fum 
 udder folks to gin? \Ye\l, well, she's got done con- 
 fabbing at last, is she? Wonder she ain't frez stiff 
 out dar wid no close on wuth talkin' 'bout an' no 
 meat on her ole bones ! Jesus Gawd ! What a pack of 
 bones dat 'oman is ! She must keep Lent all de yeah 
 round. And dar's dat big, pumkin-faced Tillie Toler 
 'long wid her. 'Relius," turning to her grandson, 
 "don't you go tantalizin' dat gal soon she git in de 
 house. If you does, I gwine bruise you black and blue. 
 You won't be able to turn over for a yeah, suh. I 
 'low she'll 'courage you — dat's de gal of it — and Vv'hen 
 you git to teasin' her she gwine squeal out like you 
 killin' her. I wants you to 'have yo'self seemly. Keep 
 in yo' cornder and let her stick in hern. You's heern 
 me speak now." 
 
 Dr. Custis had gone out to meet his kinswoman, 
 to assume a pleasure he failed to feel. Thus doth 
 courtesy oft make hypocrites of us all ! 
 
 "I thought I should never get here," began Miss 
 
38 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Warwick, "it is simply awful. I know you are sur- 
 prised to see me out a day like this ?" 
 
 "To be candid, I am surprised, remembering that 
 tlie entire autumn was exceptionally fine and you came 
 not once to see us in all that time. Why in the devil 
 don't you wear clothes enough to keep you warm, frail 
 as you are? Would you rather freeze than disturb 
 that pile of gold ? You can't carry any of it to heaven. 
 And if you could, you would find it as common there as 
 are brick and asphalt here, since the streets, we are 
 told, are all paved with it." 
 
 "How sacrilegiously you go on!" protested ]\Iiss 
 Warwick. "That's the very reason I don't come to 
 Holly Hill oftener." 
 
 Dr. Custis laughed. 
 
 "Come, let us go in where the fire is," he said, 
 resolved to be as amiable as possible. And he led 
 the way to the sitting-room. 
 
 "Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! What a bedlam !" she ex- 
 claimed, slapping her hands over her ears. 
 
 Dr. Custis motioned Aurelius to cease his drum- 
 beating, in deference to his godmother's wishes. 
 
 Little Custis looked up wonderingly, then frown- 
 ingly at the miser-pietist, while she sized the child up 
 out of her small gooseberry-green eyes, dashed meanly 
 with yellow. 
 
 "Is that he?" she demanded, pointing dramatically 
 to the little fellow. 
 
 "That is a he, certainly," returned the Doctor. 
 "But before I can tell you if it be llic he you have in 
 mind, an explanation is in order." 
 
 "Well, old Millie Bowles came by the house this 
 morning, and she told me you were at Elk Blull' last 
 night to meet a child you were going to adopt. I 
 couldn't believe the story, it seemed so absurd." 
 
 "It is true, and there is the youngster. \\'hat do 
 you think of him?" 
 
 "Well, he isn't a bad-looking child. Indeed, T 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 39 
 
 migflit say with perfect truth that he is a handsome 
 child — a remarkably handsome child. But beauty 
 amounts to nothing — is really a curse — where it is not 
 sanctified by God's grace. Has he received the sacra- 
 ment of baptism yet?" 
 
 'T don't know whether he has or not. 'Relius, put 
 some wood on the fire. Uncle Reuben, don't let Uncle 
 Daniel freeze out there." 
 
 But the stickler for mint and anise was not to be 
 sidetracked so easily. 
 
 "You'll have the child baptized, of course, if he 
 hasn't been?" she pursued. "And you will not delay 
 the matter ?" 
 
 "Fll leave it to him until he is old enough to act 
 for himself." 
 
 "Why, you talk like a bigoted old Baptist! And 
 you a Churchman, and of Churchman stock!" 
 
 He made no attempt to defend his apostasy. 
 
 "Pierre Custis ! Look at me !" 
 
 "Well ? I am looking at you." 
 
 "Whose child is that, Pierre ? What's his name ?" 
 
 "His name? Why, his name is Custis!" 
 
 "Custis, eh? Custis? Then you don't even seek 
 to disguise the fact. He bears your name boldly." 
 
 "What in the devil are you driving at? Custis is 
 the boy's first name — not his surname." 
 
 "Ah, I see !" with a sneer. "Then what's his sur- 
 name, may I ask?" 
 
 "Pierre Custis Christian is his full name. Is that 
 satisfactory ?" 
 
 "Pierre Custis Christian! He is named for you, 
 then? And his mother was — or is a friend of yours?" 
 
 "Yes, and his father was too." 
 
 "Christian ! Christian ! A good old Virginia 
 name ! Still, I never heard of your having any close 
 friends by that name." 
 
 "Do you suppose I made no friendships in the 
 years I was away at the university or at the medical 
 
40 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 college? And that it was incumbent upon me, on my 
 return home, to publish my list of friends in the 
 Goochland Democrat or the Southern Churchman?" . 
 
 "And you would have me believe that this boy is 
 the son of some old college friend of yours — some 
 young fellow v/hom you knew in Charlottesville or 
 Richmond?" 
 
 "It is of no consequence to me whether you believe 
 it or not." 
 
 "Well, I don't believe it !" 
 
 "What do you mean. Cousin Maria? Speak out!" 
 
 "Just what I said — / do)it believe any such story! 
 Young unmarried men are not willing to burden them- 
 selves with the support of other people's brats. Now 
 and then, you see a married couple without children 
 foolish enough to do it, but a single man — never !" 
 
 "You know — everybody knows — of my love for 
 children." 
 
 "Oh, pshavv^ ! Pshaw ! You can't deceive me, 
 Pierre. So why not come out like a man and own 
 up to the truth?" 
 
 "Suppose you come out first like a woman and 
 say what you mean and stop dodging behind your 
 nasty inuendoes ? Out with what you have to say !" 
 
 "You are anxious to hear it, then? Well, yon are 
 the father of that child! Aren't you ashamed of your- 
 self?" 
 
 In all his life he had never been so wantonly 
 wounded, and a woman, his kinswoman and god- 
 mother at that, had done it — a woman, too. who prided 
 herself on her gentle breeding, her devotion to Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 "Is the heaven you rhapsodize about made up of 
 people like you?" he asked, with an awful calmness. 
 "Then I prefer hell! I would be happier there." 
 
 A little hand clutclicd his leg, two blue eyes looked 
 up into his, two red lips broke apart in laughter. He 
 smiled, and, stooping, took the youngster up in his 
 
REBELS .OF THE NEW SOUTH 41 
 
 arms and laid his cheek on his. And it soothed him 
 so, as nothing else could have done, did the love, the 
 touch of the little one. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "Yes, I longed to meet you, Doctor," said Paul 
 Nelson. "I wanted to know you because of the beauti- 
 ful things Dorothy is ever saying of you. Do you 
 know the girl has put you on a pedestal, high above 
 all other men? She believes you to be a veritable 
 divinity, a god in the flesh? I remember her saying 
 one time: 'I love Pierre Custis, not as women love 
 men, but as they ought to love God. The worship I 
 should have given my Maker I have given him. But 
 God will not care. He is too great to be jealous of 
 one whom He has made so like Himself.' " 
 
 Dr. Custis blushed, and, to allay his embarrass- 
 ment, picked up Rebel and fell to caressing him. Pres- 
 ently he said: 
 
 "Talk to me of her — tell me all about the girl. 
 If she were my own sister I could not love her more, or 
 feel for her more. I have hungered so for some word 
 from her or about her." 
 
 "Well, there isn't much to toll. You knew her 
 before I did. You knew the man who wrought her 
 ruin. You and he were college chums, boarding with 
 her aunt, for whom she was a drudge at the time." 
 
 "She has told you, then, of the hard life — the 
 slavery — that was hers in the Hewitt household, her 
 only compensation being an occasional ribbon or thrce- 
 ccnt-a-yard dress. God ! Plow my blood used to boil 
 
 42 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 43 
 
 when I contrasted her cheap attire with all the finery 
 in which those Hewitt dolls strutted around ! But for 
 all that, she outshone her cousins, for she had the 
 trinity of essentials in a woman which they had not — 
 beauty, winsomeness, cleverness. They knew it, too, as 
 did their mother, and they all conspired in every way 
 to keep Dorothy in the background. She seldom ever 
 had the chance to go anywhere, even to church, because 
 of the work imposed upon her. But the church doors 
 were never ajar that the pious old cat and her kittens 
 were not there to hear how Jesus had died and paid it 
 all." 
 
 Nelson smiled. 
 
 "Yes, she told me of the sad days she passed in 
 the Hewitt home," he said, "of the coming of you and 
 Huntington to board in the house ; of the ambition 
 of the old woman to have her daughters become Mrs. 
 Custis and Mrs. Huntington, respectively, and of the 
 wiles and strategies employed by mother and maidens 
 to make you gentlemen propose." 
 
 "I don't know about myself," said Dr. Custis, 
 "but I am certain that Mrs. Hewitt would have been 
 very proud of Fred as a son-in-law. All her scheming, 
 however, was fruitless. Fred conceived a positive 
 aversion for both girls, while Dorothy attracted him 
 from the first. Her wrongs made him cry out as in- 
 dignantly as they made me. He couldn't contain him- 
 self at times. And yet he afterward wronged her as 
 nobody else had done. Strange ! Strange it has always 
 seemed to me. Villain as he turned out to be, I am 
 sure he meant well in the beginning, that his intentions 
 were honorable, that he loved her. It was not until 
 the evil had been done, not until they had forfeited 
 their innocence, that the villain in him developed. He 
 was not man enough to stand by the girl, to right the 
 wrong he had done by making her his wife. Maternal 
 wrath, disinheritance, ostracism — these were too much 
 for him. He could not bring these misfortunes upon 
 
44 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Viimscif for the mere sake of doing the manly thing. 
 So he sneaked away in the night hke the base coward 
 he was." 
 
 "And then it was that you offered her your name, 
 yourself — all that you had — as he who had wronged 
 her should have done?" said Nelson. 
 
 "Did she tell you about that?" 
 
 "Yes. Is it any wonder she worships you? Is it 
 any wonder I longed to know such a man?" 
 
 "I doubt if it would have been any sacrifice on 
 my part. I loved Dorothy as one loves a younger 
 sister or a little child. Her wrongs, her loneliness, 
 her helplessness intensified this feeling, and I longed 
 to shield her from scorn, to save her, to make her 
 happy, and I should have been happy myself if she had 
 allowed me the privilege of protecting and caring for 
 her — far happier than I have been in the past two 
 years and a half, knowing not where she was, but cer- 
 tain of the life she was living. No, it would have been 
 no sacrifice at all. What will a man not do to save his 
 sister from shame ? And I loved Dorothy Christian as 
 few men love their sisters, as I never loved my own 
 sister. But it happened we were not born of the same 
 parents, and I could not have brought the girl here, 
 living, as I do, the life of a bachelor, without blacken- 
 ing her name. No matter how chaste our relations, no 
 matter how white our thoughts toward each other, 
 conventionalism would never have tolerated such a 
 thing. You know how it is: We are judged solely by 
 appearances. So I proposed to make Dorothy my wife, 
 knowing no one would dare whisper a word against 
 her as Mrs. Custis. Marriage, you know, covers a 
 multitude of sins — legalizes and sanctifies a lot of lust. 
 But tell me: Where did Dorothy go on leaving 
 Charlottesville? She did not drift at once into a career 
 of shame?" 
 
 "No. It was not until months after Custis was 
 born, not until there was no other way for her save 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 45 
 
 suicide, that she adopted the wanton's course. She 
 went from Charlottesville to Danville, where she had 
 an uncle, who, she thought, would take her in ; but the 
 news of her downfall had preceded her, thanks to Mrs. 
 Hewitt." 
 
 "The damned old wasp ! And the poor child was 
 turned away? Her virtuous uncle couldn't harbor a 
 creature so unclean?" 
 
 "Yes ; she was tvirned away." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "She went to work in a cotton factory in the 
 town ; but her condition soon excited suspicion and she 
 was discharged." 
 
 "Oh, God ! And this in a land overrun by people 
 going around shouting what Jesus has done for them, 
 while they deny him daily in their acts of cruelty and 
 heartlessness. Oh, the anguish of the poor girl ! How 
 is it that she retained her reason?" 
 
 "Through it all, she assures me, the memory of 
 you sustained her, the micmory of your Godlikeness. 
 Her one thought was of the little one soon to be born. 
 She wanted it to be a boy, and to grow up a man 
 like you." 
 
 "My poor little girl !" and the Doctor's voice grew 
 soft and low from a sense of humility. "I wish you 
 wouldn't idealize me so, I am a very ordinary fellow 
 at best. Yet I know what is right and just ! / know 
 hoiv to love! I know hozv to feel for others, to put 
 myself in another's place! Oh, I wish everybody was 
 happy ! I wish that men everywhere would learn the 
 blessedness of loving one another ! Why won't they. 
 Nelson, my boy? Why won't they? Can you tell me? 
 Why is it they prefer to be cruel and selfish ? I can't 
 understand it. And after her discharge, what did she 
 do? Or rather, what could she do, poor, heartbroken, 
 friendless child, about to become the mother of a child 
 herself?" 
 
 "Fortunately, she found friends in an old German 
 
46 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 cobbler and his wife, w]io, living near the factory, had 
 learned of her troubles and out of the bigness of 
 their hearts opened their home to her." 
 
 "God bless them ! Nelson, who Avas that man ? 
 Who was that woman? Tell me the names of them 
 and all you know of them. I want to shake their 
 hands some day and tell them I love them." 
 
 "Otto Heinlein was his name, and Gretchen Hein- 
 lein hers." 
 
 "And I would be willing to bet that this Otto 
 Heinlein had hardly a decent shirt to his back, and he 
 would have given that to the poor devil who had 
 none ?" 
 
 "Very likely. I know this : He was regarded by 
 his neighbors as a dangerous man — an enemy of soci- 
 ety — because of his revolutionary socialism." 
 
 "God bless these enemies of society !" cried Dr. 
 Custis, springing to his feet. "They are usually men 
 who deny that might makes right — the creed of devils. 
 They want to see things more decent, humanity sweeter 
 and tenderer. God bless them, I say! They are the 
 salt of the earth, the saviors of the race. It is they 
 who carry it onward. Jesus Christ was an enemy of 
 society — the chief of the glorious clan — and for this 
 reason society put him to death. The early Christians, 
 because they stood for something, were enemies of 
 society. Hence the hatred of Nero and his efforts 
 to exterminate them. And it was in the home of this 
 old German cobbler and his wife — these humble disci- 
 ples of Marx — that the little chap first opened his 
 eyes on this sad old world?" 
 ,' "Yes." 
 
 ' Dr. Custis strode across the room, his gaze bent 
 
 floorward. Presently he returned to where his guest 
 sat. 
 
 " 'And there was no room for them in the inn,' " 
 he murmured. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 47 
 
 " 'And there was no room for them in the inn/ " 
 echoed Nelson, stirred by the pathos of the thought. 
 
 Here httle Custis romped into the room, his cheeks 
 pink ahiiost to crimson, his hps divorced in joyous 
 laughter, as Aurehus bounded after him. 
 
 Dr. Custis took him up in his arms and looked 
 lovingly into his big blue eyes. 
 
 "And it v^^as v/ith you as it was with the One of 
 old who came that men might have life and life more 
 abundantly," he said. "There was no room for you in 
 the in'ri, as there was none for Him, And you came, 
 too, on the anniversary of the night He came. God 
 grant you may, like Him, be an enemy of society, 
 refusing to compromise with the Pharisaism of your 
 day as He refused to compromise with that of His. God 
 grant you may love the truth as He loved it, and love 
 it so you will count success, reputation, life itself, as 
 naught compared with it !" 
 
 He laid his lips on the boy's, and then reluctantly 
 stood him on the floor and motioned Aurelius to take 
 him back to where they had been playing. 
 
 "And safely delivered of the boy, what followed?" 
 pursued Dr. Custis, as Aurelius closed the door behind 
 him and little Custis. 
 
 "Poor Heinlein died suddenly about two months 
 afterward, and as soon as his widow could make her 
 arrangements she returned to Germany, having a son 
 there. But she had grown so fond of Dorothy and 
 Custis she wept as if her heart would break because she 
 couldn't take them with her." 
 
 "And, alone again, the poor girl's lot was worse 
 than before, with the child to care for?" 
 
 "Yes, and the fact that she was a friend of the 
 Heinleins made it doubly difficult for her to get any- 
 thing to do." 
 
 "She, too, was branded as an anarchist, then?" 
 
 Nelson bowed assent. 
 
 "And, at last, doubly adjudged an outcast, she 
 
48 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 was driven to the brothel by the bloodhounds of society 
 — this poor, terror-stricken doe with her suckling 
 fawn?" 
 
 "Yes, while the villain who had wrecked her life 
 was winning his way to success and another woman's 
 heart. The lady was doubtless ignorant of his crime, 
 but if she had known of it she w^ould probably have 
 shrugged her shoulders and said it was all the girl's 
 fault. That is woman's way in an affair of the sort. 
 Nine out of ten women seem to find a peculiar charm 
 about a man who has betrayed one of their sex — make 
 a hero of him, in fact." 
 
 "J^^st as they make, for some inexplicable reason, 
 a hero of the nonentity known as a soldier. His buttons 
 and braid, his very strut, seem to take all the sense 
 out of them. They can't see that behind his loafing 
 and flirting the awful, the ghastly business of the 
 soldier is to murder his brother man, and for no other 
 reason does the soldier exist." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "By the way, you spoke as if you were familiar 
 to some extent with Fred's movements," said Dr. 
 Custis, resuming the conversation. 
 
 "All I know is what I read in the papers last 
 week," replied Nelson. "Didn't you read it ?" 
 
 "No. How did he distinguish himself this time? 
 Not by ruining another woman?" 
 
 "No. Why, the papers were full of it. Doctor! 
 It was an ultra swell affair." 
 
 "What was it ?" 
 
 "Why, his marriage to a voung widow of New 
 York." 
 
 "The reprobate! What right had he to marry?" 
 (A pause.) "She had money, of course — the woman 
 he married?" 
 
 "Plenty of it from all accounts." 
 
 "You may rest assured of that, else he wouldn't 
 have been caught so easily. His mother, I know, is 
 happy, if nobody else is. She is a scheming, avaricious 
 old cat, whose one ambition was that he should entrap 
 a woman of wealth. And who is she — this lady who 
 thinks she has done such great things in becoming 
 Mrs. Frederick Huntington? A young widow, did 
 you say?" 
 
 "A young widow — yes; only twenty-three and 
 very beautiful. Her first husband lived only a year, 
 
 49 
 
50 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 leaving her with a child about a month old. She is a 
 southern girl, by the way." 
 
 "From what part of the South ?" 
 
 "Virginia. She was brought up in Richmond." 
 
 "Is that so? Perhaps I know her. What is, or 
 rather what was her name?" 
 
 "Mrs. Yancey — Louise Yancey." 
 
 "Not Louise Pelham?" 
 
 "That was the lady's maiden name." 
 
 "A daughter of Colonel Fairfax Pelham, of Cul- 
 peper ?" 
 
 "Yes. You know her then?" 
 
 "Some years ago I knew her. We were school- 
 mates for a session. We were more — we were sweet- 
 hearts, absurdly in love with each other. There had 
 been no such affair of the heart since that of young 
 Montague and Miss Capulet. We were kicls of fifteen, 
 and it all happened in Richmond. We were residing 
 there temporarily, as were the Pelhams. A year later 
 Colonel Pelham, with his family, removed to New 
 York, where in the course of time, Louise was wooed 
 and won by young Yancey, son of a Wall Street mil- 
 lionaire. Since then I have heard nothing of her until 
 to-night. And she is now the wife of Fred Hunt- 
 ington ?" 
 
 He walked to his desk and drooped his nostrils 
 above a bunch of violets daintily envased there. After 
 awhile he walked back. 
 
 "Yes, nine out of ten women would have shrugged 
 their shoulders and said it was the girl's fault," he 
 said. "But Louise Pelham would have been the excep- 
 tion — the one who would not have done it. H she 
 knew of her husband's crime, of that sweet young life 
 he had driven to wantonness, of that innocent little 
 youngster in the other room whoiu his passion had 
 called into being — why, Louise Pelham would turn 
 from him in utter loathing. Say, Nelson can't we put 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 51 
 
 our heads together and devise some way of getting that 
 poor girl out of the brothel ?" 
 
 "She has not been in one for a year, Doctor. I 
 rescued her from that sort of existence as soon as I 
 could. There are people, however, who would say she 
 is no better for the change. They may be right, but I 
 know this : Even if we are not married, I love her and 
 feel a sacredness in our relations, shocking as they 
 might seem to some good people. For God's sake, don't 
 misunderstand me- I am not opposed to marrying her. 
 Believe me. Doctor, I would have made her my wife 
 long before this if she had been willing." 
 
 "She refuses, then?" 
 
 "Most strenuously." 
 
 "Poor child! I understand her. Nelson, I never 
 knew a woman as unselfish as is that girl. She would 
 gladly go down into the deepest degradation herself 
 rather than take advantage of your magnanimity. You 
 are young — you are not long out of your teens?" 
 
 "I am twenty-two." 
 
 "You would be young with a decade tacked on 
 to that. Yes, you are guilty of youth — a delightful 
 thing to be convicted of, by the way — and the warmth, 
 the impulsiveness, the generosity that go with youth 
 and make it so beautiful, prompt you to rush in where 
 an older man would fear to tread. Dorothy, though 
 a girl herself, realizes this, and, while she appreciates 
 your love and your desire to make her your wife, she 
 is haunted by the possibility of your deploring your 
 rashness some day, should she marry you." 
 
 "She argues in that manner — exactly. And it 
 hurts me; I swear it does. Why doesn't a fellow 
 know as well what he is doing at twenty-two as he 
 would at twice that age? He knows, indeed, a great 
 deal better, for when a man gets about forty-five he 
 has usually deteriorated into an old fossil, afraid to 
 do this or that, lest the old Crone of Conventionalism 
 cut him." 
 
52 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Dr. Custis looked into the refined boyish face and 
 smiled indulgently, affectionately. He had liked Nelson 
 from the start ; he loved him now. It was such as 
 he who lashed humanity out of its ruts. 
 
 "Why should I tire of the woman whom I love 
 more than my own life?" asked Nelson. "Why should 
 I ever reproach her with the past ? Wouldn't she have 
 as good a right to reproach me ?" 
 
 "But the old Crone of Conventionalism, as you 
 call public opinion," laughed the Doctor, "doesn't look 
 at it as you do, my boy. What she regards as the 
 natural and healthy thing for the man to do, she 
 brands the woman as a moral leper for doing." 
 
 "And I held that false idea, I am ashamed to con- 
 fess, until Dorothy came into my life. I thought, with 
 most people, that the law of chastity was meant for 
 woman only, that man was exempt. But when I saw 
 the pitiable condition to which that lovely, gentle girl 
 had been brought by the perfidy of one of my own 
 sex, when I looked upon that innocent little chap of 
 hers destined to bear the brand of illegitimacy all his 
 days, I was all broken up — I became another man. 
 Do you know. Doctor, I look at life differently from the 
 way in which I used to do? I have ideals now — high 
 ideals — and I try as best I can to live up to those 
 ideals. And I owe it all to that girl, outcast as the 
 world may deem her. Oh, I wish I could overcome 
 her sentimentalism — that is all it is — and induce her to 
 marry me. I don't relish our relations at present, and 
 yet I can't give her up, I love her so. And I know she 
 likes me. I believe in time she could — love me." 
 
 And he blushed, as if he were claiming too much. 
 
 "She loves you already," said Dr. Custis. "She 
 couldn't help it. And it is her very love for you that 
 makes her hesitate. She loves you so, in her fine, 
 unselfish way, that she cannot wreck your life, as she 
 fears she might do as your wife. It is not that she 
 prefers to be your mistress. No! No! That is 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 53 
 
 more galling to her than I imaghie it is to yon. It is 
 simply that in her splendid self-effacement she would 
 entail untold shame upon herself rather than accept 
 an uplift at the expense of the one she loves." 
 
 "But why should I pose as a saint and a virgin 
 when I am neither, when I am not a whit whiter than 
 she — not as white, in fact?" 
 
 Nelson drew a series of deep breaths, looking 
 reflectively upward. After a minute, he turned again 
 to his host, his face wearing an almost fierce expression. 
 
 "I have vowed one thing," he said. "Should I 
 find at any time that she is to become the mother of a 
 child by me, I will force her to become my wife. No 
 offspring of mine shall ever be denied my name and 
 my love. I would go through hell for the child and 
 the woman who bore it !" 
 
 Dr. Custis grasped Nelson's hand and squeezed 
 it in the intensity of his admiration. 
 
 "You are a man after my own heart," he said. 
 "Paul Nelson, I love you. Do you know it?" 
 
 "Not more than I love you, Doctor," returned the 
 younger man, putting his arm about the physician's neck. 
 
 An exquisite silence fell between them, broken 
 at length by Dr. Custis. 
 
 "Paul, say to Dorothy when you go back to her 
 that I would love to know that she was your wife." 
 
 "God bless you. Doctor!" cried Nelson, hugging 
 the physician outright. "It is settled. Ere this time 
 next week she will be Mrs. Nelson." 
 
 "But, Paul, you will not take the little chap from 
 me if — she marries you?" 
 
 "Couldn't you give him up?" 
 
 "I presume I'd have to, but it would go terribly 
 hard with me. Really, Paul, if that boy were to pass 
 out of my life, I would not care to live." 
 
 "He is yours, Doctor. He shall not be taken from 
 you. It is the dream — the passion — of his mother's life 
 that you should bring the boy up." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Am I a soldier of the cross? 
 
 A follower of the Lamb? 
 And would I fear to own His Ciiuse, 
 
 Or blush to speak His name? 
 
 Here Cindie ceased catechising herself in song 
 relative to her spiritual status and gazed curiously 
 down the road. 
 
 "Hi! Who dat white man comin' heah?"' she 
 exclaimed. "I hope 'taint dat new preacher at Mt. 
 Pisgah. For if it's him, and he come both'ing iVIarse 
 Pierre 'bout 'ligion, he jes' well spar his bref. Marse 
 Pierre, he all right. I jes' good a Baptis' as de nex' 
 one, but all de niggers down at Shiloh, wid Brer Jasper 
 flung in, ain't makin' Cindie b'licve dat ole Marster 
 ever gwine send Marse Pierre to hell, good as he is. 
 Men like him too skeerce in dis heah world, and I'm 
 thinkin' Ole Marster '11 want all of 'em he kin scrape 
 up to keep him company. He gwine be lonesome 'nough 
 even den, he'll scrape up so few." 
 
 With which heretical thoughts, the old woman 
 rose and put into the refrigerator the strawberries she 
 had just finished sugaring for supper. 
 
 Meanwb.ile the horseman, whose coming had dis- 
 sipated her spiritual anxiety for the time, was shout- 
 ing : 
 
 "Howdy, Aunt Cindie?" 
 
 "Howdy, yo'sef," she responded, as she turned 
 
 54 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 55 
 
 and descended the porch steps. "But, 'fo' Gawd, man, 
 I dunno you funi Adam !" 
 
 "Don't know me! You are bhnd then!" 
 
 "No bhnder'n you is," moving closer and giving 
 him a searching look. "Lawd Gawd!" breaking into 
 a laugh of recognition. "If 'taint Ben Hardie ! Whar 
 yo' come fum, boy? If you don't git off dat boss, 
 asottin' up dar like you some gin'ral, I'll knock you 
 sprawlin' over dar in dat patch of sheep mint! You 
 speckle-faced devil, you !" 
 
 "I know now you are blind," returned Ben. "I 
 haven't half the freckles I had when I was a boy." 
 
 "Whar dey gone to ? Dey all dar yit. Look heah ! 
 Bin seven yeah mos' sense you went out West, ain't it?" 
 
 "Seven years yesterday. I left the day papa was 
 married, you know." 
 
 He sprang from his horse. 
 
 "You ain't married, is you?" asked Cindie. 
 
 "No ; can't get a girl to have me." 
 
 "Look heah, boy ! Ain't you never gwine stop 
 yo' lyin'? You knows dar ain't no man, I don't keer 
 how freckly he is, whar some fool 'oman won't 
 jump at." 
 
 "It is evident you don't like freckles." 
 
 "Don't mind de way I talk, honey. I mouty glad 
 to see you. I sot a pow'ful sto' by yo' mother. She 
 was one righteous 'oman if Gawd ever made one. I 
 dunno much 'bout yo' pa's second wife." 
 
 "She is not a bad woman. I want a drink of 
 water." 
 
 He seized the gourd hanging beside the well, 
 plunged it into the bucket of freshly-drawn water, and 
 hurried it to his lips, draining every drop. 
 
 "Ah, that was good — the best drink of v/ater I've 
 had in years," he said, smacking his lips. "There is 
 no water in Goochland like it. It goes right to the 
 spot on a warm day like this. Where's the Doctor?" 
 he asked, as they moved toward the porch. 
 
56 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "He went to dc courthouse yestiddy and ain't got 
 back yit." 
 
 "Did Custis go with him?" 
 
 "No ; he round de place somewhars. He was out 
 dar on de grass awhile ago readin', but jes' now he 
 sauntered oil' to see if he couldn't git a sight of Marse 
 Pierre. He looks like he dunno what to do wid hissef 
 when Marse Pierre ain't heah. Is you ever noticed 
 a little chicken whar. done strayed off fum de ole hen, 
 how de little creter walk round wid his head hild way 
 up in de ar, won't peck at nuffin 'tall to eat an' chirpin' 
 so pitiful and lonesome-like?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, dat's de way de chile ac' when Marse Pierre 
 go 'way for a night or two. And you done noticed, 
 ain't you, how dat same little chicken will pearten up 
 all on a sudd'n when he heah de ole hen cluck some- 
 whars nigh, and how he'll flop his little wings and fly 
 fit to break his neck to his mother, makin' all sorts of 
 low, cooin'-like noises, like he so happy 'cause he done 
 found de ole hen agin?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, dat's de way 'tis wid de chile when Marse 
 Pierre come back. And Marse Pierre he badder dan 
 de chile is. Dc fust thing he want to know when he 
 come in is 'Whar Custis?' and when he fine de chile 
 he smile like he done got all he want in dis world or dc 
 nex', for dat matter. I ain't never seed two folks so 
 wrop up in each other as dem two is sense Gawd 
 made me." 
 
 "The love between them is the most beautiful thing 
 I have ever known," said Ben, tears in his eyes. 
 "Mamma used to say that nothing did her so much 
 good as to hear the Doctor say 'son' in speaking to 
 the boy or 'the little chap' in speaking of him. He 
 could throw such love into the words, as if he could 
 suffer anything for the lad." 
 
 "He would, too. li anything was to happen to 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 57 
 
 dat boy you'd have to bury Alarse Pierre wid him. 
 I ain't beHevin' nutlin 'tall else. But I 'spec' 'twould be 
 de same way wid dis nigger, 'cause I ain't never love 
 nobody like I loves dat boy. When he sez to me, 
 'Mammy, please do dis or please do dat for me, won't 
 you?' and look at me outen dem paradise blue eyes 
 of hisn, so pleadin' and innocent-like, I jes' go 'long 
 and does it like de no-sense nigger I is. I jes' ain't 
 got no use of my will whar dat boy is. He sorter 
 memorizes me." 
 
 "Hypnotizes you," suggested Ben. 
 
 'T dunno what you calls it. And Reuben he mos' 
 big fool as me, while dat yaller nigger 'Relius, he'd 
 gin de las' drap of blood he got for de chile. But how 
 kin you he'p lovin' him? You 'bleeged to love him," 
 she added, as if some sort of apology were necessary 
 for such reckless adoration. "Yas, suh, you 'bleeged 
 to love dat chile. He de sweetest thing I knows wdiar 
 Ole Marster ever puffed bref into, and he go 'long, 
 he do, jes' like he ain't diskivered dat he so sweet. 
 Nuffin 'tall don't spile him. He don't hole his head 
 'bove nobody; ain't nobody whar he thinks is as bad 
 as dey is. And den he so 'spectful and kind-like to 
 everylDody, niggers same as white folks. He don't ac' 
 like he thought udder folks was made to wait on him, 
 but he'll run his legs off to wait on anybody whar ax 
 any favor of him. Dar ain't narry drap of mean blood 
 in his veins — narry selfish bone in his body. He'd gin 
 de las' thing he got away, he so free-hearted. He 
 jes' like IMarse Pierre. Shew out heah, chicken !" turn- 
 ing belligerently upon a fine young cock of Plymouth 
 Rock strain that had ventured upon the porch. "Shew 
 out heah, you sassy dominecker devil you ! Ain't dar 
 room aplenty outside for you wad all de land we got? 
 'Pears to me dar is. You warn't born heah nohow, and 
 yit you strut round on yo' two legs and crow like de 
 whole plantation 'long to you, like you done bought and 
 paid for it outen yo' own pocket. If you don't stop 
 
58 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 yo' siirancified doing's I'll have you fryin' on de fire 
 'fo' you know it, I don't keer what yo' young marster 
 sez." 
 
 "Is that young rooster one of Custis's pets?" 
 "Dey all his pets. He won't let none of 'em be 
 kilt. I done mos' forgot how chicken taste, it bin so 
 long sense I eaf any. You know whar he got dat 
 rooster fum? Him and Marse Pierre was at de store 
 de udder day when some little nigger come in wid dat 
 chicken to trade it off for coffee and sugar, and Custis 
 he ups and buys de rooster and brung him home, like 
 de place warn't overrun wid he-chickens already. I 
 knows dar's twenty or more 'bout heah. He ain't 
 satisfied wid turnin' out all de pullets, he warn't to turn 
 out all de roosters too. He don't want to see narry 
 chicken kilt, pullet or rooster. 'Lawdy, honey,' sez I, 
 'if you don't kill off some dese roosters, every hen'll 
 have a husband by herself arter awhile.' 'Well,' sez 
 he, laughing in his music-like way, 'ain't dat de way 
 folks do?' 'But chickens ain't folks,' sez I. 'Chickens 
 is Mormons, natchel-bawn Mormons, dey is, and you 
 can't change 'em, and as for eatin' 'em,' sez I, 'dar 
 ain't nuffin 'tall wrong 'bout dat. What you reckon 
 Ole Marster make chickens and turkeys and sheep 
 and hogs and ole bars for if 't warn't for folks to eat 
 'em?' He look at me solemn-like outen his blue eyes, 
 and I know he gwine say somefin presently to knock 
 me sprawlin' on de ground. 'Dat's what de cannibal 
 think too,' sez he, 'when a missionary or 'splorer come 
 cross his paf?' Dat sent me sprawlin, sho' 'nough, 
 but I got up agin. 'Yes, honey,' I went on, 'de Lawd 
 he put all dese dumb crctcrs heah for us to eat.' De 
 chile he look at me lofty-like. 'When did de Lawd tell 
 you dat, mammy?' sez he, widout crackin' a smile. 
 I looked at Marse Pierre, who sot hidin' his face 'hind 
 a paper, and bitin' his lips to keep fum laughin'. But 
 I wouldn't let my eend of de log drap yit, so I up and 
 'mind him how de 'Postle Peter was commanded in a 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 59 
 
 vision to rise up and slay and eat de beasts of de 
 field, de fowls and de fishes. I thoughts sho I got him 
 dar, but what yo' reckon he sez? 'Oh, dat was only 
 one of Peter's dreams,' sez he. 'I reckon de 'postle 
 et too much flesh de night 'fo' and was suff'rin' fum 
 indigestion when he had dat dream.' Marse Pierre 
 couldn't keep in no longer and I make sho' he'd laugh 
 hissef to death." 
 
 "Custis isn't fond of hunting then ?" said Ben. 
 
 "No, Lawd ! Now and den some man whar's 
 bin out hunting will drap by de house wid a pa'tridge 
 or ole har he done kilt. De chile'll smooth de dead 
 thing down and den he walk off. He don't say nuffin, 
 but he look so grieved, like he can't see how men folks 
 find fun killin' things. But he ain't no gal boy ! He 
 ain't nuffin like dat. Marse Pierre done look arter 
 dat. He bin 'velopin' de boy tell he got him stronger 
 dan one ox. De muscle whar dat chile's got on him — 
 well, 'tis a muscle you read about. Ain't narry boy 
 anywhars round heah got de likes of it, and Marse 
 Pierre he so sinful proud of it he wants to show it to 
 everybody he see. What you reckon dat man done 
 las' fall when him and de chile went down to de State 
 Fair?" 
 
 "Put the boy on exhibition as the Virginia 
 Sandow ?" 
 
 "He had de chile's pitcher took mos' start naked, 
 so as to show off de grace and cemetery of his figger. 
 All de chile had on was somefin wropped round heah," 
 indicating the region of the loins. "I wish you could 
 aseed ole Miss 'Ria Warrick Vv'hen IMarse Pierre 
 showed her dat likeness. She screamed like you done 
 kilt her. She make like it was horrid, but Marse Pierre 
 he laugh and sez 'twas beautiful, dat it look like de 
 pitcher of a young gawd. Hi ! Dar comes Marse 
 Pierre now!" 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "You scamp ! You prodigal ! I can't tell you 
 how delig-lited I am to see you again," said Dr. Custis, 
 still holding his visitor's hand after their embrace on 
 meeting. "Weren't you glad to see him, mammy?" 
 
 "What I glad for, arter he rund off fum his friends 
 and kinfolks like he done and stay away, all dese yeahs? 
 He mout staid de balance of his life for all I keer." 
 
 The men laughed. 
 
 "And you are back in Mrginia — have a position 
 in Richmond?" said Dr. Custis. "Homesick, were 
 you ?" 
 
 "Homesick isn't the word. There were times that 
 I thought I would die, I longed to be back in \'irginia 
 so. And there was no face I longed to see as I ditl 
 yours, Doctor — no voice I longed to hear as I did 
 yours. To have heard you say damned in your virile 
 way when you get righteously indignant — why. I 
 would have been willing to die the moment after. 
 Say, Doctor, you don't grow old at all! You look 
 as you did ten years ago — like a big, beardless boy." 
 
 "Why shouldn't I look like a boy when I feel like 
 one? My blood is pure, my digestion good, my sleep 
 sound. I manage to keep out of debt and try to 
 treat everybody decently. More than all else, the 
 little chap is still with me, making the years one per- 
 petual Maytime. He is all he promised to be, and 
 more. Where is he, mammy?" 
 
 60 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 6i 
 
 "Out somewhars lookin' for you, but you didn't 
 come back by de county road, did you ?" 
 
 "No, by way of Haddon's. So I missed him. 
 But he'll show up presently. He knows I wouldn't 
 remain from home another night when we are going 
 to Richmond to-morrow." 
 
 "To the reinterment of Jeff Davis?" asked Ben. 
 
 "Yes. I don't care about it, but Custis wants to 
 go. By the way, I presume you have learned of my 
 political apostasy?" 
 
 "Of your joining the People's Party? Yes, I 
 read about it in the Richmond papers, and that you 
 would likely be the joint nominee of the Populists 
 and Republicans for the State Senate." 
 
 "That's a lie. I may accept the nomination of 
 the Populists if they insist upon it, but to accept a 
 nomination from carpet-baggers and scalawags — never 
 in the world ! You know me too well to believe such 
 a thing of me, Ben Hardie?" 
 
 "Of course, I do." 
 
 "All this talk of fusion between the People's Party 
 and the Republicans is deliberate lying on the part of 
 the Bourbon press. How can two parties holding, as 
 they do, antipodal views on economics — the one the 
 avowed champion of the money power, the other in 
 open revolt against it — how can two such parties unite ? 
 You were not surprised, then, when you read of my 
 having left the party of my fathers?" 
 
 "Not at all. I had known, from your letters, of 
 your disgust for the negative, improgressive policy 
 of the Democratic party; of your contempt for the 
 Republican party, both for its unsavory record in 
 reconstruction days and for its subserviency to the 
 money power to-day. So it was only natural that 
 you should identify yourself with the new party which 
 embodies your ideas." 
 
 "I am not satisfied with that — far from it. For 
 one thing, I take little stock in the free coinage of 
 
62 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 silver. We must go deeper than any such questions 
 as gold or silver, protection or free trade. We must 
 socialize the trusts, now such gigantic engines of 
 oppression in private hands — not smash them, as some 
 well-meaning reformers would do. The better way, 
 and the only sane way, is for the people to take them 
 over into their own hands and operate them for the 
 benefit of all, instead of allowing a few individuals to 
 pile up vast unearned wealth for themselves and de- 
 scendants. For the present I am with the Populists, 
 because I think I can see in the movement an awaken- 
 ing of the people — a force making for radicalism and 
 ultimately for revolution." 
 
 "You talk like a Socialist, Doctor !" 
 
 'T am one, and if there were a sane Socialist party 
 in the country I would join it without a day's delay. 
 Until such a party appears I will work with the one 
 that comes nearest my ideas. The People's Party, 
 because of the radicals and socialists in its ranks, may 
 evolve into a real Socialist party ; but if it goes back- 
 ward or allows itself to be absorbed by one or the 
 other of the old parties, I will at once get out of the 
 movement. liello! Custis has been reading out 
 beside those calycanthus bushes and left his book on 
 the grass." 
 
 Dr. Custis sprang down the porch steps, and, 
 returning in a moment with the volume, remarked : 
 
 "Emerson's Essays." 
 
 "You don't tell me that a kid not yet fifteen can 
 find pleasure in Emerson?" exclaimed l)cn. 
 
 "The average boy docs not. Custis does, however. 
 Yes, he is very fond of Emerson ; also of Ruskin. Whit- 
 man, Tolstoy, Drummond and other eminent worthies. 
 You would be surprised to see the character of the 
 books he reads, and he enjoys them thoroughly. There 
 is no afTectation about it. The grasp he gets of the 
 author's thoughts is marvelous. Frequently I come 
 across a sentence or a paragraph in some book he has 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 6^ 
 
 marked, and really I am astonished at the little chap's 
 acnmen to penetrate the most subtle expression and 
 g-et at the heart of the thing, to break into the very 
 soul of the writer, as it were, and to hold communion 
 with him. In my necessarily hurried perusal of most 
 books, there are many thoughts whose full meaning 
 eludes me at the time, and it is only when I find them 
 afterward marked by Custis that I grasp their full 
 fineness, their real beauty. Let us see if he has marked 
 anything in this book. Yes, here is something : 'When 
 a thought of Plato becomes a thought to me, when a 
 truth that fired the soul of Pindar fires mine, time is 
 no more. When I feel that we two meet in a percep- 
 tion, that our two souls are tinged with the same hue, 
 and do, as it were, run into one, why should I measure 
 degrees of latitude? Why should I count Egyptian 
 years?'" 
 
 "Well, that takes the cake," said Ben. After 
 awhile, recovering himself, he said : 
 
 "Of course, you have made a Socialist of him?" 
 
 "He thought himself into one. 'Looking Back- 
 ward' is a book that appealed to him powerfully, I 
 want him to take up Karl Marx, to familiarize himself 
 thoroughly with his philosophy, but there is plenty 
 of time for that. Indeed, I would prefer his reading 
 less than he does at his age. Hov/ever, it has done 
 him no harm. I wish the little chap would come. I 
 haven't seen him since yesterday morning," 
 
 The Doctor looked wistfully toward the orchard, 
 where the cherries were growing temptingly red. 
 
 "What do you think of all this talk of negro 
 domination, Doctor?" asked Ben, after awhile. "Don't 
 you think it all rot?" 
 
 "I do. The object is to keep the working man 
 and the farmer of the South in the Democratic party. 
 The very people who are loudest in theii cry against 
 negro supremacy — our bankers and business men — 
 would be the first to desert the Democratic party if it 
 
64 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 should throw off the yoke of plutocracy. If it should 
 declare three years hence even for so mild a measure 
 as free coinage of silver, they would flop over to the 
 Republican party by the thousands. Xegro domina- 
 tion would cease to frighten them, and the 'nigger' 
 party would lose all its repulsiveness. Profits and 
 interest would overshadow all else. Custis is coming! 
 Let me hide." 
 
 The physician sprang into the house to conceal 
 himself, and the negro question for the time was for- 
 gotten, as the boy's voice, delicious as a bird's, floated 
 up from the clover pasture : 
 
 sometimes gleams upon my sight 
 Through present wrong the eternal right, 
 And step by step since time began 
 
 1 see the steady gain of man; 
 That all of good the past hath had 
 Remains to make our own time glad; 
 Our common, daily life divine, 
 
 And every land a Palestine. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Custis sprang up the porch steps, hke the sweep 
 of a perfimied wind, his cheeks, his hps hot with the 
 hue of health. 
 
 "Mammy, I can't see anything of him," he said, 
 plaintively, rushing to Cindie, oblivious of the presence 
 of young Hardie. 
 
 "Can't you, darling?" she said, affecting a tone 
 of sympathy, "I lay one dem ole courthouse gals done 
 rund off wid yo' Unc' Pierre." 
 
 He lifted his eyes in mild surprise that she should 
 treat the matter with such levity, and, without answer- 
 ing, turned and faced Ben, wdio had risen on his coming 
 and stood, smiling, with outstretched hand. 
 
 "Good evening, sir," said the boy, flushing. "Par- 
 don me ; I didn't see you before." 
 
 "Why, Custis, don't you know me?" 
 
 "How de chile gwine to know you when he ain't 
 sot eyes on you for seven yeah?" broke in the irre- 
 pressible Cindie. "You didn't have all dat fox bresh 
 sottin' on yo' top lip like you got dar now, and de 
 chile he warn't nufiin but a baby, you mout say, when 
 you took up dat fool notion to run off to Chick-kagger." 
 
 "Oh, I know you now !" exclaimed Custis. "You 
 are Mr, Ben Hardie, aren't you?" 
 
 "You are mistaken." 
 
 The boy looked embarrassed. 
 
 "Pardon my blunder," he said, "I thought you 
 
 65 
 
(£ REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 were he, from what mammy said. If you are not, I 
 must confess I have no idea who you are." 
 
 And he shook his head slowly, mortifiedly, as if 
 he thought it very stupid on his part. 
 
 Ben broke into a laugh. 
 
 "I may be Mr. Ben Hardic to some people, but not 
 to anybody at Holly Hill," he said. "You used to call 
 me Ben when you were a little shaver in kilts, and 
 there is no reason why you shouldn't do it now." 
 
 And dropping back into his chair, he drew the 
 stalwart youngster down in his lap as he used to do in 
 the old days. 
 
 "Aren't you going to kiss me?" 
 
 "Certainly, if you want me." 
 
 And the affectionate lad gave Ben the desired kiss. 
 
 "My! What a robust kid! Aunt Cindie has just 
 been telling me of your Uncle Pierre's training you to 
 knock John L. out." 
 
 "I ain't tole him nuffin of de sort, honey," retorted 
 Cindie, looking up from her task of breaking ice for 
 supper. "Don't you believe narry word dat liar tell 
 you. He makin' up dat yarn as he go 'long, dat what 
 he doin'. All I tole him was 'bout the ungawdly 
 muscle whar you done 'veloped." 
 
 "Is that all you told me? You didn't tell me 
 how that picture taken in Garden of Eden costume 
 came near frightening St. Maria to death?" 
 
 "You mean my picture?" asked Custis. and he 
 laughed dcliciously, disclosing teeth as white as the 
 snowljalls blossoming beside the porch steps. "It was 
 funny to see how Cousin Maria did when Uncle Pierre 
 showed it to her. You ought to have seen him laugh. 
 He declared he gained three pounds, he laughed so." 
 
 "Dat was all put on wid ole IMiss 'Ria." grunted 
 Cindie. ".She soon got over it, and she don't never 
 come hcah now dat she don't look at dat likeness. She 
 sots a pow'ful sto' by dat chile, T mus' say. to do de 
 'oman jcstice. She don't think dar's anuddcr boy like 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH (yy 
 
 him in de world. She kiss him and kiss him tell dar 
 ain't no sense in it." 
 
 "Cruel Caesar! Miss Maria Warrick gone to 
 kissing in her old age!" cried Ben. "And one of the 
 trousered species at that! What is the world com- 
 ing to?" 
 
 "You mout ax dat. She 'scuse herse'f by savin' 
 she 'bleeged to kiss de chile, he so sweet, she scz. 'He 
 de mos' pufl'ec little gen'man whar she ever seed,' she 
 sez to everybody. Now, dat's a whole passel of praise 
 fum ole Miss 'Ria, 'siderin' de chile he ain't never 
 bin circumcised in de 'Piscopalin Church." 
 
 "Why, I didn't knov/ the Episcopal Church prac- 
 ticed the rite of circumcision," said Ben, laughing 
 uproariously. 
 
 "She means I haven't been confirmed," explained 
 Custis. 
 
 "Dat's what I mean, honey. Dat's what mammy 
 means, but dat fool dar had to laugh like he ain't got 
 no sense." 
 
 "I wish Uncle Pierre would come !" sighed Custis, 
 looking longingly down the road. 
 
 Then, his eyes falling on the Doctor's hat, he 
 cried gleefully : "Uncle Pierre is here ! Plere's his hat ! 
 Where is he, mammy?" 
 
 And, without waiting for an answer, he sprang 
 from Ben's legs and rushed into the house. 
 
 Dr. Custis emerged, laughing softly, from his 
 hiding place. He stood, with folded arms, awaiting 
 the return of the boy. Soon the loved footfalls were 
 heard returning, and presently he felt the warmth of 
 two young arms around his neck, the pressure of two 
 young lips on his. 
 
 "Say, Ben, do you remember the night this kid 
 arrived in these parts ?" said the Doctor, his arm still 
 around the youngster. 
 
 "Do I? I remember no night in all my life so 
 well. But didn't the snow come down that night? 
 
68 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Remember the good time we had — you and papa and I 
 — while )'0U were waiting for the train. After we 
 closed store papa made some eggnog and mamma gave 
 us one of her Christmas pound-cakes. You and I 
 didn't do a thing to that cake, did we ? Let's see. That 
 was twelve years ago last Christmas. You have grown 
 some in that time, Custis," turning to the lad. 
 
 "A little, I believe," was the answer. 
 
 *T want you to see what a magnificently developed 
 youngster he is, Ben," said Dr. Custis. "Show Ben 
 your arms, son." 
 
 "What I tole you, Ben Hardie?" cried Cindie, 
 
 Custis started to roll up his sleeve when the physi- 
 cian stopped him. 
 
 "Take your sweater off," he said. "I want him 
 to see your chest, your back, your arms — all." 
 
 The boy removed his jersey, baring himself to the 
 waist. 
 
 "Cruel Caesar!" exclaimed Ben, in genuine admi- 
 ration. "He is a peach ! Why, Doctor, I never saw 
 a boy of his age so splendidly developed ! God ! W' hat 
 arms ! What biceps ! Custis, you are a marvel, boy !" 
 
 "The girth of his biceps is I2j4 inches, while that 
 of his forearm is 10^4 inches," said the physician. 
 "Now, look at his chest. It is nearly 35 inches." 
 
 "Thirty-four and three-quarters," said the lad. 
 
 "The girth of his neck is 133^," continued the 
 Doctor. "Observe the strength of it ! Now. examine 
 his thighs. His girth of thigh is 1934 inches, his girth 
 of waist 275^, and," reaching downward, "that of his 
 calf 14% inches. Think of it! I am confident you 
 couldn't find a boy of his age — he will not be fifteen 
 until Christmas, remember — more perfectly developed 
 if you were to search the land over. You can get into 
 your sweater again, son. We are done inspecting 
 your fine points." 
 
 And. slapping the youngster on the back, he turned 
 to Ben and said : 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 69 
 
 "Would you believe it that he knows as well as I 
 how he is constructed, how fearfully he is made ? Noth- 
 ing that he should know have I withheld, from a sense 
 of mistaken modesty. Jealous of outside influences, 
 I have seen to it that he got no perverted view of 
 truths ; that the knowledge of the sexual function was 
 revealed to him by no vulgar or unclean mind, as it 
 is to most boys, and in many instances, to their undo- 
 ing. I have impressed upon him the sacredness of 
 procreation, and in a way that has done no violence 
 to his sensibilities, but, on the contrary, developed in 
 him a manly, robust modesty that is rare indeed. Yes, 
 I have had him to sit at my feet from his infancy up ; 
 I have told him all the things he should know ; I have 
 shown him all the pitfalls into which ignorance might 
 have flung him, poor little chap ; and the result is that 
 he is approaching puberty untainted by any secret vice, 
 his organs all beautifully developed, his mind the 
 home of the whitest thoughts. He is coming to his 
 manhood like a white rose unfolding. Aren't you, 
 son?" 
 
 "You — you know," said the boy, modestly. "All 
 that I am I owe to you." 
 
 And in the greatness of his love he laid his cheek 
 up against the physician's and smiled as though earth 
 held nothing half so dear to him as this quickened, 
 virile Bourbon, who had been to him "father, mother, 
 friend, everything." 
 
 "You have succeeded in making of him an athlete, 
 a student and an altruist," said Ben, after awhile. 
 "Now, what are you doing for him musically?" 
 
 "I lay he want to sell you a new pianny," said 
 Cindie. 
 
 Ben flushed, not relishing the thrust. 
 
 "Well, I am doing all I can for him, back in the 
 woods as we are," answered Dr. Custis. "Miss Lydia 
 Vv^'oodson has been giving him lessons on the piano 
 for two years, and she reports satisfactory progress." 
 
70 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Ben looked on the floor, then up at the porch 
 ceiling". 
 
 "Doctor," he began, embarrassedly, "surely you 
 will not think I came to Holly Hill to try to sell you a 
 piano ?" 
 
 "I never dreamed of such a thing, Ben. You are 
 not hurt by mammy's words ? You came to see us, of 
 course — the little chap and me ; all of us, in fact." 
 
 "Yes, I did," returned the young piano and organ 
 drummer. "I came because I have always loved you 
 so ; came to see Custis, came to see Aunt Cindie. But," 
 he added, falteringly, "I thought if you needed a new 
 piano for Custis, I could do better by you than a 
 stranger. You don't think less of me for that, Doctor ?" 
 
 "Certainly not, my boy. Nobody loathes the vul- 
 gar commercial system under which we live more than 
 I ; but we are forced to do things that outrage our 
 finer natures, or we should fall in the struggle. You 
 make your living by selling musical instruments, and 
 if you can sell an old friend a piano, why, what's 
 wrong about it? Knowing of your connection with 
 Mason & Harper, I had made up my mind to inspect 
 your stock of pianos while in Richmond." 
 
 "Is that so? Well, we have the finest and most 
 up-to-date pianos manufactured, and nothing would 
 please me more than to show you our stock." 
 
 "All right. We'll drop in to see you while in Rich- 
 mond. I doubt if I am able to buy a piano just now, 
 money is so scarce. But if you show me something that 
 suits me, I presume I'll wind up by buying it. And 
 what of it? I have never yet regretted a dollar s]-)ent 
 upon the little chap. Indeed, I have come to believe 
 that money could not be better invested. I shall get 
 it back some day, and with big usury. I know he 
 would never let me sufi'er ; that if I should ever find 
 myself penniless and dependent, he would be my sup- 
 port, my strength, my all. But should society deny 
 him the chance to show what is in him, should the 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 71 
 
 unscrupulous crowd him to the wall, because he has 
 in him none of their cunning — why, it will be all the 
 same to his Uncle Pierre."' 
 
 Here he drew the boy up in his arms. 
 
 "Uncle Pierre knows all that is in him, all the 
 sweetness, all the grandeur of him, and if they don't 
 give him a chance, it will be all right. We can sink 
 together, as we have swam together, can't we, son?" 
 
 For answer the youngster lifted his eyes running 
 over with tears to the face he loved above all others, 
 and laid on his lips the dear, big hand that had been 
 to him as the hand of God. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The obsequies were over ; the remains of Jefferson 
 Davis, brought from Mississippi, had been committed 
 to permanent sepulture in the capital of the dead Con- 
 federacy, and the vast multitude that had gathered to 
 do honor to his memory was slowly dispersing. 
 
 Dr. Custis had just met two old friends — one a 
 lawyer and Democratic politician from the Valley of 
 Virginia ; the other, a well-known tol^acconist of Rich- 
 mond. They had learned through the papers of his 
 "conversion to Populism," and were berating him 
 savagely for his political lunacy. 
 
 "I thought it must be a mistake, Pierre," said the 
 Cleveland worshiper from Shenandoah County. "But 
 I reckon Fll have to believe it now since your ov>'n lips 
 have confirmed it." 
 
 "Really," broke in the manufacturer of the finest 
 chewing tobacco on the market, if his advertisements 
 told the truth ; "it is beyond my comprehension how 
 a man of your brains and good sense could bring your- 
 self to train with such damned freaks. Good God, 
 man ! Do you realize you are making the mistake of 
 your life?" 
 
 "You surely are," agreed the wiseacre from the 
 Valley. "You are throwing away your reputation, 
 your good name, if you but knew it." 
 
 "Well, I am not the first one who has done it," 
 answered the j^hysician, dignifiedly. "If I read history 
 intelligently, the little progress the race has made 
 
 7» 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 73 
 
 is due alone to the fools who were willing to throw 
 away their reputations, their good names, for the truth 
 as they saw it." 
 
 The tobacconist sneered. 
 
 "Yes, that's the way you damned cranks all talk 
 when somebody of balanced mind attempts to show 
 you your error. You all imagine yourselves a lot of 
 prophets and saviors." 
 
 "A company of little Jesuses," added the lawyer, 
 coarsely. 
 
 Half-pityingly, half-contemptuously, Pierre Cus- 
 tis looked from one to the other of his plutocratic 
 acquaintances. And these were the fellows, and men 
 like them — prosperity-coarsened, success-hardened vul- 
 garians — who had the presumption, because they had 
 been sharp enough to evade the Scriptural injunction 
 relative to work, to think themselves of finer fibre than 
 those who did the world's work ? ]\Iore than that, they 
 dared imagine that men envied them because of their 
 gold. God knew he did not. 
 
 Here the loved hand of Custis was laid gently on 
 his arm, and turning, he beheld the boy, whose love 
 he would not have exchanged for all the gold on earth 
 or in the bowels of it. 
 
 "Pardon me, gentlemen," said the youth, lifting 
 his cap. Then to Dr. Custis : "Uncle Pierre, there is a 
 little chap out in the crowd who is lost from his sister 
 and governess, and I am going to help him find them." 
 
 "^'All right, son," replied the physician. "I'll wait 
 for you here." 
 
 "Gosh! That's a handsome kid!" exclaimed the 
 manufacturer of chewing tobacco, looking after the 
 boy. "A nephew of yours, Pierre?" 
 
 "He is nice-looking — devilishly so," conceded the 
 alleged expounder of law and equity. "You don't tell 
 me that such boys as that can flourish on the same soil 
 with Populism and sassafras?" 
 
 Meanwhile Custis had returned to the object of 
 
74 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 his solicitude. He was a fragile child, was the lost lad, 
 but his face was singularly fair and sweet, and his 
 eyes were of the softest blue — wondrously like the 
 eyes of Custis. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so glad you've come back," he said, 
 seizing Custis's hand and smiling up at him. "I was 
 afraid I had lost you, too." 
 
 "Oh, no! I just went to tell Uncle Pierre that I 
 was going with you, so he wouldn't be uneasy about 
 me." 
 
 "It is so kind of you, I think." 
 
 "Not at all. You would do the same for mc if 
 I were lost in New York. Your home is in that city, 
 you told me?" 
 
 "Yes, but I'd rather live in Richmond. You can 
 breathe here. Hollywood is a beautiful place, isn't it?" 
 
 "It is conceded to be the most beautiful cemetery 
 in the country, because of its picturesque location, its 
 natural beauty. See how it winds around upon these 
 lovely hills overlooking the river?" 
 
 "You live in Richmond, of course?" 
 
 "No, my home is in the country, about fifty miles 
 up on the river." 
 
 "That river — the James, vou mean?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Where would you rather live — in the country 
 or in the city ?" 
 
 "The country, I think ; but I'd be happy anywhere 
 with Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "Is your name Pierre, too?" 
 
 "Yes. What made you think so?" 
 
 "I don't know. I just thought you ong^ht to be 
 named for your imcle, if you love him so much as all 
 that. What is your other name?" 
 
 "Pierre Custis Christian is my full name. I am 
 called by my middle name, Custis. That's my Uncle 
 Pierre's surname." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 75 
 
 "I am so glad to know your name. Mine is Pel- 
 ham Huntington." 
 
 "And I am equally glad to know yours, Pelham," 
 returned Custis, giving his companion's hand, still 
 in his, an affectionate pressure. 
 
 And with this unconventional way of introducing 
 themselves, they sauntered on, hands clasped, as if they 
 had sprung from the same loins and the same breast 
 had given them suck. 
 
 "Let us sit on that hillside and watch the people 
 as they go out," suggested Custis, when they had gone 
 a furlong or two. "Probably your sister and gover- 
 ness will come along after a while. Aren't you 
 thirsty ?" 
 
 They had come to a spring, and as Custis asked 
 the question he immersed the unwieldy iron dipper 
 into the water, and, drawing it forth full, gave it to 
 his companion to drink. Then he slaked his own 
 thirst, and, with his arm around Pelham's neck, went 
 tip a hill where the daisies caressed their knees, the 
 flowers had run up so tall in their vigor. 
 
 "We'll rest here and keep a close watch upon the 
 crowd," said Custis. 
 
 And together the boys flung themselves down 
 among the daisies. 
 
 "I wish I lived in Richmond and you lived here, 
 too," said the lad from New York, falling deeper in 
 love with the Virginia youngster every moment. 
 "Then I could see you every day, couldn't I ?" 
 
 "But you might get tired of me after a while ?" 
 
 "Tired of you? Never! Never! Never!" re- 
 iterated Pelham, so earnestly, so solemnly, that Custis 
 laughed and hugged him out of sheer love, while Pel- 
 ham nestled closer to the strong, handsome youth, 
 his eyes bespeaking perfect content. 
 
 "I wish you were my brother, Custis !" he said. 
 "Wouldn't it be lovely?" 
 
76 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Nothing could be lovelier, Pelham. Have you 
 no brother?" 
 
 "No, but I have always wished for one — a big, 
 szveet boy that I could love — a boy just like you. I 
 liate these tough, fresh kids. New York is full of 
 them." 
 
 "They are everywhere, Pelham. Gentle, manly 
 boys are in a minority, it seems," 
 
 "Gentle, manly boys !" repeated Pelham. "I like 
 to hear those two adjectives used together. Father 
 never uses them together, though. Do you know he 
 has a lot to say about manly boys where I am? He 
 does it to make me feel bad ; I know it. He says he 
 does love a manly boy, but he does hate a Sissy — a boy 
 who is forever hovering around women. That's meant 
 for me, because I love mother and Virginia so, and 
 would rather be with them any time than with father. 
 He chills me, father does ; I can't talk wdiere he is, 
 somehow. Why should he think me a Sissy, Custis? 
 I am no Sissy, am I ?" 
 
 "Of course, you are not," answered Custis, with 
 a soothing caress. "You know some men have no 
 use for a gentle boy. A half-hoodlum is what they 
 mean by a manly boy." 
 
 "What do you mean by a manly boy, Custis ?" 
 
 "Well, he is gentle, he is tender, above all else, 
 especially tender toward old people, little chiklrcn and 
 dumb creatures." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Of course, he is chivalric toward girls and 
 ladies." 
 
 "What else?" 
 
 "He is just; he loves fair play in everything. He 
 is always ready to put himself in another's place. He 
 thinks of others first ; of himself last." 
 
 "Yes ? Go on !" 
 
 "He is modest. He is anything but a bully and 
 braggart." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH jy 
 
 "What else is he?" 
 
 "He is never coarse. He loathes unclean talk, 
 but he isn't prudish. If he has to speak of his leg-, he 
 calls it his leg and without blushing. He knows no 
 reason why he should blush. But his purity goes 
 deeper than speech. His mind is pure. He is clean 
 through and through." 
 
 "Anything else?" 
 
 "He is brave — morally brave, even more than 
 physically so. He isn't afraid to stand up for the 
 right even if it means to stand all alone. Now, I have 
 given you my definition of a manly boy. What is 
 yours ?" 
 
 "Just what yours is. Custis, you are all right. I 
 think you the smartest boy I ever saw. How old 
 are you ?" 
 
 "I shall be fifteen next Christmas." 
 
 "And I shall be twelve next All Souls' Day. You 
 are little less than three years older than I am. But, 
 my goodness ! What a great, big boy you are ! And 
 the lots you do know !" Then, after a long breath : 
 "Aren't your father and mother, your brothers and 
 sisters, all awfully proud of you? Don't they all 
 love you to distraction ?" 
 
 "The loves of these I have never known," re- 
 plied Custis. "Yet I have found in Uncle Pierre's 
 love a love greater than all those loves run into one. 
 He doesn't love after the fashion of men and women. 
 He loves like God! He has the heart of God !" 
 
 The young bosom rose and fell with the mag- 
 nitude of the thought. And, speaking again, he uttered 
 this startling heresy: 
 
 "Jesus was not the only one in whom God ever 
 incarnated himself." 
 
 Pelham drew a long sigh, as one beneath the 
 shadow of a great awe. 
 
 "How you do love your Uncle Pierre !" he sai^ ^t 
 length, hushedly. 
 
78 « REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Love him !" echoed Custis. "I love him more 
 than all the universe. Sometimes when I allow my- 
 self to think of his — his — going from me " 
 
 "You mean — his — dying?" 
 
 "Yes," the young voice going down to a wdiisper, 
 "and I grow cold all over, as if I were dying myself." 
 
 "I hope he'll never die while you live," said poor 
 little Pelham, his face mirroring the sympathy he felt. 
 
 "Thank you, Pelham," returned Custis, stroking 
 the little fellow's hand. "Your sympathy is sweet." 
 
 Pelham plucked a daisy that leaned against his 
 cheek and began to count its petals, but talking with 
 Custis was more interesting than daisies, and he flung 
 the flower away and said : 
 
 "I wonder if father would think you a manly 
 boy? I am sure he would. I wish he could see you, 
 Custis. Pie is out here somewhere now, but not be- 
 cause he loved Mr. Davis. He had no use for him 
 at all." ^ 
 
 "Naturally, being a northern man." 
 
 "No, he is a southern man. But he has lived in 
 the North ever since before I was born, and he has 
 turned Republican, too." 
 
 "A Republican?" 
 
 "Yes. Isn't it disgraceful — a \'irginian's being a 
 Republican? I am a Democrat, I am. So is mother, 
 and Virginia, too, is a Democrat. Mother says she 
 can never reconcile herself to father's turning Re- 
 publican. But he laughs and calls her a mossback and 
 ]jOurbon and says a man, if he wants to be decent in 
 the North, has to be a Republican, just as a man, if he 
 wants to be decent in the South, lias to be a Demo- 
 crat. But that sort of logic doesn't impress mother at 
 all. She says that to be decent, according to father, is 
 to be wealthy. She would be a Democrat in the 
 North, she says, if she found herself with nobody but 
 paupers and ]\Iickies." 
 
'There's Virginia now." Page 79. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 79 
 
 "I admire your mother for her moral courage, 
 even if I am not a Democrat myself." 
 
 "You are not a Republican, Custis?" 
 
 "No! No! No!" shuddered Custis. 'T am a— 
 Socialist." 
 
 Pelham started; 
 
 Custis laughed. 
 
 ''What's the matter, Pelham?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing ! Only I had an idea that Socialists 
 were terrible people.' But I must have been wrong, 
 that's all. I know I was if you are one. By the way, 
 do you love bon-bons? I bought a box on my way to 
 Hollywood and just now thought of them." 
 
 He drew the box from his jacket pocket, and, 
 opening it, handed it to Custis, who took one of the 
 dainty confections. 
 
 "Take some more." 
 
 "This is enough, thank you." 
 
 "It is not. Here, hold your hands together, like 
 this." 
 
 Custis shook his head. 
 
 "Please do it, won't you?" pleaded Pelham, 
 
 And Custis yielded, holding his two palms to- 
 gether as commanded, while the generous little New 
 Yorker poured the bon-bons into them until they ran 
 over on the ground. 
 
 Custis protested against such wanton generosity, 
 but Pelham had his way. 
 
 "I don't want to take all your bon-bons." 
 
 "You are not taking them. Fm giving them to 
 you. See? There's Virginia now !" 
 
 And the two boys sprang from their semi-recum- 
 bent position among the daisies. 
 
 "Is that your sister ?" asked Custis. 
 
 "Yes, my half-sister." And he shouted: "Vir- 
 ginia ! Virginia !" 
 
 She turned on hearing her name, and, uttering a 
 cry of joy, started up the hill toward her brother, 
 
8o REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 while Custis held his breath because of the delight it 
 gave him to look upon the girl, she was so abundantly 
 alive, so robustly beautiful. 
 
 "You horrid boy!" she exclaimed, hugging Pel- 
 ham in her joy. "I have been positively insane about 
 you, and you sitting here devouring bon-bons as con- 
 tentedly as if you were at a matinee. The heartless- 
 ness of boys-! I never saw anything like it !"' 
 
 "I have had a lovelier time than I ever had at a 
 matinee. Virginia, this is my friend, Custis Christian. 
 Miss Yancey, Mr. Christian." 
 
 Then followed the presentation of Custis to Miss 
 Johnson, the governess. 
 
 'T don't know where I should have wandered but 
 for Custis," said Pelham. "He found me crying — I 
 couldn't help it — and said he would help me find you. 
 Wasn't it awfully good of him?" 
 
 "It was lovely of him. All you have to do to make 
 me your friend," she said, turning to Custis, "is to do 
 that brother of mine a good turn. A kindness done 
 him is a kindness done me. So we are friends without 
 any preliminaries." 
 
 He lifted his cap. 
 
 "You are a Richmond boy, I presume, Mr. Chris — 
 no, I won't do it ! I won't mister you !" 
 
 "I don't w^ant you to do it. Nobody else misters 
 me. Why should you? Call me Custis, as everybody 
 else does." 
 
 "Suppose I simplify it more?" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "By calling you Cus." 
 
 "No! No! Nobody ever Cussed me before, and 
 you wouldn't do it." 
 
 "No ; I couldn't be so cruel. And you don't want 
 to be mistered, either ?" 
 
 "Why should I? I am only a boy, and I intend 
 to remain one as long as I can." 
 
 Virginia clapped her hands in approval. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 8i 
 
 "It is just delightful," she exclaimed, "to meet a 
 real boy like you — a natural, healthy boy, who is in 
 no hurry to become a man, who feels the joy of be- 
 ing a boy." 
 
 "And it is as delightful to meet a real girl like 
 you," returned Custis ; "an unaffected, wholesome girl, 
 who feels the joy of being a girl." 
 
 "Thank you. That was very prettily said. But 
 the real boy is always chivalric. There is one thing 
 I don't like. It is your little old man-hoy. I just 
 loathe him — this premature freak, who skips his boy- 
 hood, who takes every short cut and byway possible 
 to reach manhood, he is so crazy to get there." 
 
 "Yet fails to get there, after all, he is so dwarfed 
 by the sacrifice of his boyhood," observed Custis. 
 
 "How finely you rounded out that thought," ex- 
 claimed Virginia. "Custis, you are a boy worth 
 knowing !" 
 
 "Of course, he is," enthusiastically assented Pel- 
 ham, and he sighed from the very excess of his pride 
 in Custis. "Don't you wish he lived in New York, 
 Virginia ?" 
 
 "Why not wish we lived in Richmond so long as 
 you are only wishing?" smiled the girl. 
 
 Miss Johnson, ever on the trail of improprieties, 
 could see nothing charming in the frank intercourse of 
 these children. 
 
 "Why, Virginia !" she said, severely. "How you 
 do talk ! You are positively bold. What will Mr. 
 Christian think of you?" 
 
 "She is all right," laughed Custis. "She is not bold 
 at all, Miss Johnson. She is natural, that's all, and 
 naturalness in a girl is so rare that really it invigor- 
 ates me." 
 
 "Now, will you be good?" cried Virginia, trium- 
 phantly. "How I do envy you Richmond people !" 
 turning to Custis, who was so much more interesting 
 than Miss Johnson. "I just love Richmond! If I could 
 
82 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 only live here, I would never, never want to die." 
 
 "You wouldn't want to die, no matter where you 
 lived." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because you are young and so gloriously 
 healthy." 
 
 "But I shall not always be young and so glori- 
 ously healthy. I must get old some day, and I might 
 become gaunt and bony and everything else hideous. 
 Many do, you know. Or I might go to the other 
 extreme — accumulate so much flesh as to look more 
 like a hippopotamus than a woman. In either event 
 I would want to die." 
 
 "Unless you lived in Richmond." 
 
 "Yes ; I could endure all things here." 
 
 A rose fluttered from her bosom, seeking comrade- 
 ship with the plebeian daisies. 
 
 Custis picked it up and handed it to her. 
 
 "Thank you. But you can have it if you want it. 
 May I fasten it on your coat?" 
 
 And she did so, their clean young breaths coming 
 together like the perfume of two flowers. 
 
 "Now, you are a swell boy," she observed. "But 
 you are that, rose or no rose, aren't you? Pelham, 
 love, run for some water. Miss Johnson, dear old 
 Puritan, is about to faint." 
 
 "No, I am not," declared that painfully proper 
 lady. "But, truly, I am horrified at your behavior. 
 What would your mother sav if I were to tell her of 
 all this?" 
 
 "Why, she would simply laugh and call you Pris- 
 cilla Prude for all your pains, as she usually does 
 when you go to her with some tale of woe." 
 
 Here Custis turned to Pelham, taking his hand. 
 
 "Now that you have found your sister, Fll return 
 to Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "You are not going, really?" said Virginia. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 83 
 
 "Please don't leave me, Custis !" cried Pelham, 
 tears in his eyes. 
 
 "I must do it, Pelham. Uncle Pierre is waiting 
 for me. I ought to have joined him before this." 
 
 'T am so sorry," said Virginia. "Can't you come 
 to see us while we are in Richmond? Mother will 
 just hunger to see you, she will love you so when she 
 learns of your kindness to Pelham." 
 
 "That she will," exclaimed Pelham. "Come down 
 to-night, Custis. Your Uncle Pierre will let you. 
 Bring him with you." 
 
 "Yes. Do you know where we are stopping?" 
 said Virginia, and she gave him their address. 
 
 "I wish I could call on you," he answered. "But 
 Uncle Pierre and I are going out to dinner this 
 evening." 
 
 "Well, to-morrow?" she pursued. 
 
 "Yes, to-morrow," echoed Pelham. 
 
 "Why, children," said Miss Johnson, "have you 
 forgotten that we leave for your grandmother's to- 
 morrow morning?" 
 
 "That's so. I had forgotten it," said Virginia. 
 
 "I wish we weren't going," pouted Pelham, re- 
 fusing to release Custis 's hand. "I would rather stay 
 here and have you come to see us." 
 
 "We shall meet again, Pelham. I am sure of it." 
 And with these words Custis kissed the little chap, 
 who, somehow, had got closer to him than any other 
 boy he had ever known. He released himself from 
 the lad's embrace, shook hands with Virginia and 
 Miss Johnson, and, lifting his cap, hurried away in the 
 direction of the Davis section, where he had left Dr. 
 Custis. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Mrs. Huntington was certainly a woman "with 
 the courage of her convictions." Although she had 
 lived in the North since she was sixteen, although her 
 first husband had come of stalwart Republican stock, 
 and her second had become an even more rabid parti- 
 san of plutocracy, Mrs. Huntington had remained 
 true to the faith of her fathers. The charge 
 against the Democratic party that it was the party of 
 "Mickies" and other foreign riffraff, "the party of 
 Rum, Romanism and Rebellion," had served only to 
 strengthen her loyalty to its tenets and to intensify 
 her bitterness toward the Republican party. 
 
 ''There is no hope for Louise. She is a Bourbon 
 and will die one," her husband would say. "Neither 
 old Bob Toombs nor Jeff. Davis was ever the unrecon- 
 structed rebel she is," Avas another of his pleasantries 
 which he never tired of repeating. "It has been quite 
 a while since the episode at Appomattox, but Louise 
 doesn't seem to have heard of it yet." 
 
 And Mrs. Huntington, in defending her devotion 
 to the Lost Cause, would retort: "It is not because I 
 believe in chattel slavery ; it was wrong, undoubtedly, 
 and I am glad it is gone. But I am a rebel — and I 
 glory in it — because I believe in State's rights, in the 
 right of secession. If I be wrong, it will take other 
 than a Republican to show me my error. A Repub- 
 lican ! Whew! If you wish to know what the Repub- 
 lican party was in the beginning, go South and ask the 
 
 84 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 85 
 
 people there who passed through the agony and 
 humiHation of carpet-bagger rule, who were plundered 
 and outraged by these despicable Republican scala- 
 wags ! If you wish to know what the Republican 
 party is to-day, you have only to look around you. 
 In the North, it is controlled by vulgar plutocrats and 
 made up of a multitude of petty dollar chasers, snobs, 
 fanatics and hypocrites. In the South, it is composed 
 of a million or more negroes and a sprinkling of low- 
 down renegade whites whose price of apostasy is 
 usually a postmastership. Now, there is your Re- 
 publican party, past and present. North and South! 
 I could tolerate Mr. Yancey's Republicanism, because 
 he was born to it; but I cannot and will not counten- 
 ance Fred Huntington's flop, born and bred as he was 
 in the South." 
 
 Now, when I have to state that a headache had 
 kept Mrs. Huntington in her room on so great an 
 occasion as the reinterment of the "Confederacy's chief- 
 tain — an event which she had come South purposely 
 to witness — you may safely conclude it was no mere 
 feminine headache. 
 
 "It must be a terrific one," thought her husband, 
 and in his sympathy he went so far as to offer to stay 
 in with her, but she would have none of his society. 
 Virginia and Pelham, too, wanted to give her their 
 company, like the loving children they were, but she 
 gently drove them forth with these words : 
 
 "If I can't attend such an occasion myself, I shall 
 have the consolation of knowing that my children 
 could do so." 
 
 And so she passed the day alone with her head- 
 ache, which relaxed its severity as the evening drew 
 nigh, bringing the children back to her arms. 
 
 "What do you think, mother?" cried Virginia, 
 "Pelham, like the big baby is, got lost and the sweetest, 
 dearest boy found him and was the means of restoring 
 him to us." 
 
86 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Wasn't that lovely of him?" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Hunting-ton. 
 
 "It was divine of him ! Oh, mother, I wish you 
 could see him! He is so handsome! He is beautiful! 
 He is a poem in athletics ! Such a face as he has — 
 Adonis's and Apollo's were plain when you have seen 
 his. And such teeth ! They make his lips look as 
 though they were sandwiched with lilies of the valley ! 
 And eyes of tlie heavenliest blue — that serene, Aprilish 
 blue you find in periwinkle blossoms ! And his cheeks 
 — why, pink carnations would turn green with envy !" 
 
 "Then that would make them green carnations," 
 smiled Airs. Huntington. 
 
 "But his mouth, mother — that's the sweetest part 
 of him ! You feel just as if you wanted to kiss the 
 boy to death," 
 
 "Oh, you extravagant infant !" and ]\Irs. Hunting- 
 ton's hand went up in mock despair. "A copy truly of 
 your mother! A copy of Louise Pelham at fourteen, 
 extravagantly aesthetic, ever raving over something 
 beautiful, from a butterfly to a boy! Now, Miss John- 
 son, what have you to say? How did this much-alive 
 maiden demean herself in the presence of that athletic 
 poem, beside whom Apollo and Adonis are reduced 
 to plain pagans? I hope she restrained her murderous 
 impulse and left him alive — the kid whose mouth is a 
 lily-of-the-valley sandwich ?" 
 
 "Yes, but I regret to say that her conduct was not 
 such as I could have desired," answered the puri- 
 tanical j\Iiss Johnson, disgusted as much at the ma- 
 ternal indulgence shown as at Mrginia's improprieties. 
 "She told the young man to his face that he was 
 lovely," 
 
 "Pardon me, Miss Johnson, I did not," cried Vir- 
 ginia, "I said simply it was lovely of him — Irs find- 
 ing Pelham and restoring the child to us. Didn't 
 mother just now say the very same thing?" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 87 
 
 "What about the rose? You didn't drop it pur- 
 posely, so he could pick it up?" 
 
 'T did not. I am not so artful. To tell the truth, 
 mother," turning to Mrs. Huntington, "the boy fas- 
 cinated me so I forgot that there were roses in the 
 world until that one dropped." 
 
 "And he gallantly picked it up for you, of course?" 
 said Mrs. Huntington, interested in the episode. 
 
 "Yes, and I fastened it on him," answered Vir- 
 ginia. "And he didn't mind. He smiled as if he 
 liked it. I know he did." 
 
 "And I know it, too. He wouldn't be a healthy, 
 normal boy if he hadn't. Well, is that the extent of 
 your offending? If so, I'll dismiss the case against 
 you. Miss Yancey. Why, Pelham," turning to her 
 son, "what is the matter? You haven't uttered a 
 word since you came back, and you look as if you 
 hadn't a friend on earth." 
 
 For answer the little fellow arose, came to her 
 and put his arm around her neck. 
 
 "Isn't mother's man-child well?" she asked, kiss- 
 ing him again and again. "You are crying, darling?" 
 
 "I'm so lonesome, mother," he sobbed. 
 
 "Lonesome? And with mother and Virginia? 
 What's the matter, dear?" 
 
 "I — I miss him so ; I miss Custis so." 
 
 "Custis?" Mrs. Huntington started. "Is that 
 the boy's name?" 
 
 "Yes, mother; Pierre Custis " 
 
 "Pierre Custis?" 
 
 "Pierre Custis Christian. He is named for his 
 LTncle Pierre, and my ! my ! how Custis does love 
 him !" 
 
 "And Christian is the boy's surname? I wonder 
 whose child he can be ?" reflected the lady. "I am sure 
 that Christian is not the name of the scalawag whom 
 Barbara married, and Pierre has no other sister." 
 
88 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Why, do you know Custis's Uncle Pierre, 
 mother?" asked Pclham. 
 
 "Really, mother ?" chimed in Virginia. 
 
 "I knew him when we were boy and girl. We 
 were verv much in love with each other in our school 
 days." 
 
 "Why didn't you marry him, mother ?" asked Pel- 
 ham. "Just suppose you had? Custis's Uncle Pierre 
 would be my father, wouldn't he? And Custis and I 
 would be first cousins, wouldn't wc?" 
 
 Mrs. Huntington smiled helplessly. The questions 
 were more than she could answer. 
 
 ******* 
 
 "I suppose the little chap found his sister?" said 
 Dr. Custis, on Custis's return. 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Pierre. Do you know I hated to 
 leave him? And he didn't want me to go at all. He 
 clung to me as if he loved me so." 
 
 "That isn't strange. Who is it doesn't love Uncle 
 Pierre's boy ? Who is it doesn't feel lonelier for your 
 going?" 
 
 "He is a wonderfully bright boy," continued Cus- 
 tis ; "a boy refreshingly removed from the common- 
 place. I can't understand it, but it seems as if I had 
 known him all my life. I love the little chap. Uncle 
 Pierre ! I love him, deeply, yearningly, as I would a 
 younger brother if I had one. Strange, isn't it?" 
 
 "Who is the little one? What's his name?" 
 
 "Pelham Huntington." 
 
 "Huntington ! Pelham Huntington !" 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Pierre. Do you know his family?" 
 
 "I used to know his mother." 
 
 "Is that so?" 
 
 "Louise Pclham was her name in those days. And 
 the boy's sister? She is not a Huntington? She is a 
 Yancey, isn't she?" 
 
 "Virginia Yancey." 
 
 "And she is about your age?" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 89 
 
 "I imagine she is. And she is a beautiful girl, 
 Uncle Pierre — the most beautiful girl 1 ever saw !" 
 
 "Ah !" 
 
 The boy blushed. 
 
 "Obviously, to draw from you so warm a superla- 
 tive," remarked Dr. Custis. "But tell me, son, more 
 about this girl, Virginia Yancey. I am interested." 
 
 "To begin with, she is a genuine madcap." 
 
 "An instance of heredity's getting in its work. 
 Her mother before her was a madcap. And her eyes — 
 are they of a soft, velvety brown ? Do they awaken tlie 
 poet in one?" 
 
 "They are brown, soft and velvety," answered 
 Custis, but he declined to commit himself further. 
 
 The two sat for a while looking abstractedly across 
 the James. Far away, over the stretch of rocks and 
 willowed islets, near to the Belle Isle shore, a party of 
 bathers, minified by distance, scampered friskily over 
 the rocks, disappearing and reappearing as they dived 
 into the water or sprang out of it. 
 
 "Do you know, son," said Dr. Custis, at length, 
 "tliat Uncle Pierre was once guilty of the masculine 
 weakness of falling in love with a girl? Would you 
 believe it of me?" 
 
 "Why, that's all right," laughed the youngster, 
 an unmistakable ring of sympathy in his voice, as if 
 he were beginning to feel the symptoms of the weak- 
 ness himself. "And who was the girl. Uncle Pierre? 
 You don't mind telling me, do you ?" 
 
 "You scamp ! Don't you know ?" 
 
 "Virginia's mother ?" 
 
 "She was the damsel who gave me the Romeo 
 rabies." j 
 
 "And she could love, she could marry another man 
 after having loved you ?" 
 
 "The evidence points that way. It seemed as if 
 she could love, she could marry — tv/o men." 
 
 Custis gave a snifi of disgust. 
 
90 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Uncle Pierre, I don't fancy such a woman," he 
 declared. 'T don't like Airs. Hunting-ton at all. I 
 can't help it, even if she is the mother of Mrginia and 
 Pelham, even if she is still dear to you." 
 
 "You are severe, son." 
 
 "Perhaps I am, but it does seem to me that the 
 bare thought of another man — much less two men — 
 would have been nauseating to her after she had known 
 and loved you." 
 
 "But other people are not given to idealizing a 
 certain old country doctor as you are. P.eally, it is 
 your besetting sin, and you must rid yourself of it," 
 with a mock gravity, which was only productive of a 
 hug from the youngster. 
 
 "That's a lovely rose, son," said Dr. Custis, as they 
 rose to return to the city. 
 
 "Do you think so?" 
 
 "I do. Where did you get it?" 
 
 "I love to hear that plaintive murmur of the river 
 as its waters rush over the rocks. Don't you ?" 
 
 "Yes, but I love the breath of roses more." 
 
 "Isn't that a long freight train?" 
 
 "Quite a chain of cars. Who gave you that beau- 
 tiful rose?" 
 
 "You can remember away back before that rail- 
 road was built, when boats used to go up and down 
 the canal, can't you, Uncle Pierre?" 
 
 "That wasn't so long ago. You surely didn't 
 steal that rose ?" 
 
 "How tiresome such traveling in those dn}-s must 
 have been!" 
 
 "Quite tedious. Did the daughter of my cx- 
 sweethcart give you that rose?" 
 
 "The daughter of your ex-swecthcart gave me 
 this rose." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 91 
 
 And the boy blushed beautifully, and Dr. Custis 
 laughed joyously, living his youth over in the lad. 
 
 Half an hour later they alighted from a horse car 
 (now, happily, a memory) at Main and Laurel streets 
 and took their stand on the southeast corner to await 
 the next trolley car going east. They had just done 
 so when a strikingly handsome man of athletic build, 
 faultlessly dressed, emerged from Monroe Park, and, 
 glancing up Main street, as if he, too, were looking for 
 a car, strode across the street. It was Frederick Hunt- 
 ington. The two men who had once been closer than 
 brothers looked at each other, starting visibly, but 
 no word, no smile passed between them. 
 
 Huntington, seeing Custis, stepped upon the curb- 
 ing beside the boy and surveyed him from head to 
 foot, first curiously, then appreciatively, then hungrily, 
 as one fascinated by some beautiful painting that grows 
 upon the beholder. 
 
 Custis felt the burning gaze upon him, and, em- 
 barrassed, moved closer to Dr. Custis. 
 
 Huntington, lost in contemplation of the lad, un- 
 consciously moved nearer to him, continuing to burn 
 him with that strange, hungry — shall I say, worship- 
 ful ?— look. 
 
 Happily for Custis at this moment, the military, 
 on its return from Hollywood, turned into Main street 
 from Cherry, followed by the rabble which it always 
 calls forth. The band, which had exhausted all the 
 old airs dear to the southern heart, here broke into 
 "Auld Lang Syne," a favorite of the boy's, and swept 
 out of himself by the glad-sad notes, he began to sing 
 it in a subdued voice. 
 
 "Uncle Pierre," he remarked, presently, "do you 
 know that 'Auld Lang Syne' has an effect upon me that 
 no other tune has ? I feel as if I wanted to laugh and 
 to cry at the same time." 
 
 And he struck it up again : 
 
92 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Should auld aoqnaintanec be forgot 
 
 And never brought to mind? 
 Should aiild ucquaintanc-e be forgot 
 
 And days of auld lang syne?" 
 
 Pierre Custis, stirred by the memories of his long- 
 dead university days, invoUmtarily looked at Fred- 
 erick Huntington, forgetting for the time the latter's 
 crime, remembering him only as he had known and 
 loved him in the sweet, white days of old. And 
 Frederick Huntington met tlie gaze of his old chum 
 with a softness in his face and a moisture in his eyes 
 which argued that he was not all devil. 
 
 "Here comes a car at last, son," said Dr. Custis, 
 touching Custis on the shoulder and motioning the 
 boy to precede him. 
 
 There were only two seats left, but, seeing Hunt- 
 ington behind him, Custis declined to sit down. 
 
 "I don't want your seat, my son," said the gentle- 
 man, smiling. 
 
 "But I want you to have it," insisted the youth, 
 with a gentle imperativeness. 
 
 And with a smile and "Thank you very much," 
 Huntington sank down beside Pierre Custis. 
 
 "You can sit here, son," suggested the Doctor, in- 
 dicating his knee, and as he reached forth his hand to 
 draw Custis down into his lap, Huntington caught the 
 boy and drew him down into his. 
 
 "You'll find me rather heavy," said Custis. 
 
 "You are a bouncing boy, sure enough, but I don't 
 mind it," returned Huntington, encircling the boy's 
 waist with his arms. Then he said to the conductor, 
 ivho had appeared for his fare : 
 
 "I wish to get ofif at Foushee street." 
 
 Two minutes later the conductor called out: 
 
 "Foushee street !" 
 
 But Huntington remained in his seat. 
 
 "Foushee street !" 
 
 Still he stirred not, and the conductor came to 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 93 
 
 him, reminding him that he had called his destina- 
 tion twice. 
 
 "I heard you," returned Huntington, curtly. 
 
 And the conductor walked off, convinced that the 
 distinguished-looking passenger "was not all there," 
 while the latter, oblivious of trolley car conductors and 
 their thoughts, sat holding Custis until the boy sprang 
 from his knee to follow Dr. Custis out of the car. 
 
 "Good-bye, sir," said Custis, giving him one of his 
 winsome smiles and his hand with the smile. 
 
 "Good-bye, my son," responded the gentleman, 
 with a lingering tenderness upon the words, and he 
 retained the lad's hand as long as he could. 
 
 And then as Custis moved off he rose as if to fol- 
 low him, but, restraining the impulse, sank back into 
 his seat. However, he got off at the next street, the 
 atmosphere of the car had grown suddenly so oppres- 
 sive without the youngster. He felt as if he were 
 suffocating, his sense of loneliness was so over- 
 powering. 
 
 "What a damned fool I have become all at once !" 
 he mused. "But I know whose boy that is. Pierre 
 Custis wouldn't have to tell me that he is my son. I 
 had heard of Pierre's taking a boy to bring up, and I 
 naturally guessed it was Dorothy's kid, but I never 
 dreamed he was a youngster like that ! God ! He is a 
 dream ! I'd be as proud as Lucifer of that boy !" 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Dorothy Nelson was now thirty-four years of 
 age, but she looked hardly twenty-four that May 
 morning as she sat in her room at the Valentine House, 
 tying a bewitching cap on a more bewitching bit of 
 femininity that had come to her and Paul the Christ- 
 mas before. There was about her that indefinable girl- 
 ishness, betraying itself in face, figure and manner, 
 which some women carry into the meridian of their 
 years, and sometimes beyond. The anguish, the shame 
 of her early womanhood had surely been enough to 
 ensnow all the hairs of her head and to write deep 
 lines in her face ; yet her hair to-day was as brown 
 and abundant as in her teens, and not a line marked 
 the fair, beautiful face bent above the babe's. But, 
 after all, it was not so remarkable. She had just come 
 up through twelve sweet years with Paul Nelson by 
 her side, and he had been so tender and strong, had 
 this once thoughtless, pleasure-pursuing youth. If the 
 perfidy of one man had come near to engulfing her in 
 the maelstrom of endless infamy, the love of another 
 had snatched her from her impending doom and estab- 
 lished her feet again in the paths of pleasantness and 
 honor. 
 
 "Now, you are ready for your morning's outing, 
 
 Miss Nelson," she said, as she arose and placed the 
 
 ' little one in the arms of the benevolent-faced ncgress 
 
 who had accompanied them from Coorgia to the 
 
 Davis reinterment. "Don't go far with her, Aunt 
 
 94 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 95 
 
 Easter. Try to be back within an hour. I am sure Dr. 
 Custis and Custis will be here by that time, although I 
 have heard nothing from them yet." 
 
 She kissed her little daughter, and, admonishing 
 her not to give "mammy" any trouble, picked up 
 "Trilby" and sat herself into a rocker. But she read 
 only one chapter. She was in no mood for reading 
 this morning. So she put the novel aside to weep an- 
 other day over the early passing of Trilby and Little 
 Billee. 
 
 Presently the door opened and Paul entered, shak- 
 ing a letter at her. 
 
 "From Dr. Custis?" she cried. 
 
 "An epistle from St. Pierre," he returned, hand- 
 ing her the letter. 
 
 She broke the seal eagerly and plunged into the 
 contents : 
 
 AIy Dear Dorothy — I found your letter on our 
 return from Hollywood this evening, and it is need- 
 less to tell you how delighted I am to learn that you 
 and Paul were able, after all, to come on to the rein- 
 terment. But I am sorry you can't visit Holly Hill 
 while in Virginia. Nothing would make me happier 
 than to have you and Paul go back with us Saturday. 
 I wish you would reconsider the matter. 
 
 In speaking for myself I am also voicing the 
 feelings of Custis. The little chap is wild to see 
 you. He loves you dearly, and I have done all I could 
 to strengthen and make holy this love. He can't 
 understand it that he should love one so whom he has 
 never seen (or thinks he has never seen) ; but seeks 
 to assure himself that it is because of the tender, 
 womanly letters you write him. 
 
 I can imagine your feelings when you behold 
 him again after all these years, and I could blame 
 you for nothing you might do in your mother joy ; but 
 if you wish to beget no suspicion in his mind, I would 
 advise you to restrain yourself as much as possible. I 
 
96 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 suspect at times that he divines the truth already, but 
 he would never let me know it, because of a little talk 
 I had with him some years ago. It was not long after 
 I put him in trousers — the age when a boy is a walk- 
 ing interrogation point. I took him on my knee and 
 said : "Custis, doubtless 3^ou would like to know 
 something about yourself. Let me say in the be- 
 ginning: It is all right — your being here with 
 Uncle Pierre. You are the son of two old friends 
 of mine w^hom I loved very dearly, but, unfortunate- 
 ly, they became estranged before you were born and 
 you were given to me to bring up as my own 
 little boy. Your mother gave you to me because 
 she thought it best for your welfare, because she 
 loved Uncle Pierre as she loved a brother and 
 was satisfied he would do the right thing by you 
 as near as he could. I know all this seems mysterious 
 to you, but I want you to trust Uncle Pierre. More 
 than this I am not prepared to tell you at this time, nor 
 for a long time to come. Some day, however, condi- 
 tions may warrant my telling you all. Until then I 
 want you to ask no questions. You will do this if you 
 love me, if you believe that I love you and have your 
 happiness at heart." He wound his arms around my 
 neck and kissed me — his way of acquiescing to my 
 wishes — and from that day to this the little chap has 
 never by word or sign betrayed the least curiosity in 
 the matter. I had in the beginning used about the 
 same words to my neighbors with the hint given as 
 delicately as possible that the affair was none of their 
 business, and that if they attempted to make it so I 
 would consider it as nothing short of unpardonable im- 
 pertinence. In thus dealing with them at the start, as 
 I did later on with Custis, I have spared myself an 
 endless amount of embarrassment which a course of 
 subterfuge or outright lying would undoubtedly have 
 brought ujjon me. And it has had a most healthy effect 
 on the community. Every man and almost every 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 97 
 
 woman, white and black, has always respected my 
 reticence in the matter. There are two or three petti- 
 coated reptiles who are ever coiled to strike. Up to 
 this date, however, they have been impotent to start 
 a scandal. Nobody minds them, they are so thoroughly 
 despised, are these old thin-lipped shoulder-shruggers. 
 Conditions, though, are now changing. Lifelong 
 Democrats are deserting the old subsidized, prostituted 
 Democracy, and those who remain with it, preferring 
 tlie darkness, seem stung to madness by the exodus 
 in progress and in turn are stinging all who go out 
 from them into the light. I am one of the "sore- 
 heads" and "disgruntled office seekers," although I 
 never sought or desired an office in my life. So if 
 the Populists should nominate me for the Legislature, 
 as they threaten to do, I shall be prepared for anything 
 my enemies may say of me. It is certain they 
 have a fine foundation in my adoption of Custis on 
 v/hich to build as colossal a scandal as they could 
 desire. 
 
 I have written you a long letter, just as if you 
 were away down in Georgia. However, it is well that 
 I have done so, for there are things I have written that 
 I should not have had the opportunity of saying to 
 you in the presence of Custis. 
 
 Of course, we accept your invitation to luncheon 
 to-morrow. Look out for us about 10 o'clock. 
 
 God bless you, little girl ! And God bless the 
 noble man who has been your strength these twelve 
 years ! There is no man whom I love more than 
 Paul Nelson. 
 
 Kisses for Miss Nelson. 
 
 Your friend till the trumpet toots — and after- 
 ward. 
 
 Pierre Custis. 
 
 Dorothy looked up from the letter, a glad laugh 
 breaking from her lips. 
 
 "Delightful old darling!" she exclaimed, and she 
 
98 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 passed the letter to her husband to read. "They are 
 coming-, Paul ! They'll be here soon — Dr. Custis and 
 the child! My child ! My boy ! My darling! A little 
 while and I shall hold him in my arms, I shall feed 
 upon his lips !" 
 
 She drew forth her watch, while her husband pro- 
 ceeded to read the letter. Fourteen minutes of ten 
 o'clock! She skipped to the mirror and surveyed her 
 reflection. Surely, this was not vanity. Why should 
 she not desire to look her best in the eyes of her son? 
 Some sweet peas were envased on a table near. She 
 seized the flowers and transferred them to her corsage. 
 Then she looked at her v/atch again. Five minutes 
 of ten ! 
 
 "Here's your letter, Dorothy," said Paul. 
 
 "You big baby !" she exclaimed. "You are crying. 
 Can't you stand a little tafl'y better than that?" 
 
 He smiled absently. His thoughts were of the 
 atrocious treatment which Dr. Custis was likely to 
 receive from his former friends, now his political 
 enemies, rather than of the physician's affectionate 
 allusion to himself. 
 
 "Yes, they will say every evil thing they can of 
 this spotless, incomparable man — these very people 
 who have always looked upon him as the embodiment 
 of integrity. And for what? Because he dares assert 
 the God-given right to think for himself, because he 
 refuses to fellowship any longer with owls and bats ! 
 Ah, we know something of these Ilourbon vipers, don't 
 we, dear?" winding his arm around his wife. 
 
 "We do indeed," she replied. "But we'll not think 
 of them now. We'll forget them and all their dark 
 methods. Why, it's five minutes past ten ! They ought 
 to be here. Shall we go down to the parlor?" 
 
 "No, I left orders to have them shown up here." 
 
 "Fm glad you did. Aren't they coming? Yes! 
 Yes!" 
 
 There was a rap on the door. Nelson sprang for- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 99 
 
 ward and opened it. Dr. Custis and Custis stood 
 without. 
 
 "Doctor! Doctor!" 
 
 "Paul ! Paul !" 
 
 And then they fell into each other's arms, they 
 loved each other so, did these Altruria-bound travelers. 
 Coming out of the embrace, the physician approached 
 Mrs. Nelson, took her hand, and, bending his head, 
 touched her brow with his lips. 
 
 "Dorothy, little girl !"' he murmured. 
 
 She said nothing. She could not, but her eyes 
 spoke adequately for her, telling better than could 
 words have told how rejoiced she was to see him again. 
 
 They stood looking at Custis, whom Nelson was 
 kissing as tenderly as if the boy were his own. 
 
 "He — he is so beautiful," she said, at last ; "but he 
 is so like " 
 
 She did not finish the sentence. 
 
 Dr. Custis understood, and said: 
 
 "An exact copy of him physically. But there the 
 likeness ends. I doubt if they have one thought in 
 common." 
 
 Here Custis started toward his mother, and here 
 she stretched forth her arms, closing her eyes as if 
 overcome by her great joy. A second more and she 
 had the boy in her arms, her lips on his in a long, 
 ecstatic kiss. 
 
 The two men turned to each other with drenched 
 eyes. Dr. Custis took Nelson's arm, and in silence 
 they walked to the window, leaving mother and son 
 together. 
 
 Ten minutes later Aunt Easter entered the room 
 with the baby, and the little one v/as at once seized by 
 her father and presented to the child-adoring physician. 
 
 "Is that your little baby, Mrs. Nelson?" asked 
 Custis. 
 
 "Yes, darling ; that's she." 
 
 Here Nelson came to them bearing the child. 
 
loo REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Custis, son, this is Miss Nelson." 
 
 And the boy took the babe in his arms and kissed 
 her repeatedly, whereupon she grew riotous with de- 
 light. 
 
 "I never saw her in such a glee," exclaimed 
 Dorothy. 
 
 "I am sure I never did," said her husband. ''Cus- 
 tis, son, she has fallen in love with you." 
 
 "Of course, she has. How could she help it?" 
 cried the happy mother of the two children, smiling up 
 idolatrously at the boy as he stood tossing the little 
 girl up and down in his arms. 
 
 "What is her name, Mrs. Nelson?" asked Custis. 
 
 "We haven't named her yet, dear. Isn't it stupid 
 of us?" 
 
 "Suppose you name her for us, Custis," suggested 
 Nelson. 
 
 "Yes, darling!" cried Dorothy, clapping her hands. 
 "How clever of you, Paul, to think of it, and how 
 dense of me not to ! Yes, sweetheart," turning to 
 Custis, "name our little girl for us." 
 
 The boy's face suddenly glowed, as if the most 
 beautiful name were on his tongue, but a mind-reading 
 smile from Dr. Custis checked his precipitancy and he 
 said quietly : 
 
 "I'll think of a name presently." 
 
 And he went on amusing the little one, while 
 Dorothy continued to feed her eyes upon him. 
 
 The gentlemen drifted into politics, and after a 
 while, observing their absorption, Custis leaned toward 
 Dorothy and said : 
 
 "I think Virginia a beautiful name for a girl." 
 
 "Do you wish her to be called that?" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Nelson. Don't you think it a lovely 
 name ?" 
 
 "I do ; but it never sounded so musical until you 
 proposed it. Virginia ! Virginia ! It grows upon me ! 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH loi 
 
 Why, I wouldn't have her called anything else ! Paul ! 
 Paul!" 
 
 "Well, dear?" 
 
 "Custis has named the baby." 
 
 "Well, what are we to call her?" 
 
 "Virginia." 
 
 "Virginia Custis Nelson," said the boy. "Custis 
 is for Uncle Pierre, you know." 
 
 "And whom is Virginia for? Why, you are 
 blushing, old man ! Doctor, is that the name of his 
 sweetheart ?" 
 
 "Do you think I'd be mean enough to betray my 
 chum ?" said the physician, scrutinizing the ceiling. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Cindie had come out to feed the fowls, and in 
 response to her energetic "Coochie ! Coochie !" the 
 hungry birds were gathering rapidly about her — 
 chickens, turkeys, guineas and pigeons. 
 
 "Hi! Who dat untie my ap'on strings?" she 
 exclaimed, suddenly. "Ha'nts mus' be roun' dese heah 
 diggins," she added, in mock alarm. 
 
 An arm ran around her waist, followed by a laugh 
 she loved. A second later she was hugging Custis, 
 and the pan of grain was on the ground, its contents 
 causing a riot among the feathered mob. 
 
 "Gawd love his bones ! It seem like a yeah sense 
 you bin gone," she said. "Whar INIarse Pierre? You 
 ain't let none of dem Richmond gals take up wid 
 him, is you ?" 
 
 "I left him talking with 'Rclius and Emcline." 
 
 "Bound dat wench got show herse'f when a white 
 man round. Did dat nigger of mine git to dc depo' 
 wid de ca'idge fo' de cars git dar? I was skeercd he 
 wouldn't, de ole slow coach ! I dunno what to make 
 of dat nigger heah lately. He warn't no ole poke like 
 he is when I took up wid him." 
 
 "You forget, mammy, that Uncle Reuben isn't as 
 young as he was then," said Custis, extcnuatingly. 
 "Say, how is Anthracite getting on? Her three weeks 
 are up to-day." 
 
 "Lawdy, honey, don't you know dat dis no-sense 
 nigger done 'clar forgit 'bout dat hen tell she strut 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 103 
 
 out de barn dis mawnin' friskier dan sin wid a whole 
 passel of little chickens ?" 
 
 "How many, mammy?" 
 
 "Fifteen." 
 
 "Fifteen ! Every egg hatched, then ! Good for 
 you. Anthracite ! You are a bird that knows her busi- 
 ness. Where did you put her?" 
 
 "In dat hovel 'hind de icehouse." 
 
 Custis darted away to congratulate the hen upon 
 her success. 
 
 A minute or two later Dr. Custis came up to 
 where Cindie stood, and when he had greeted her he 
 remarked : 
 
 " 'Relius and Emeline seem to be a happy pair, 
 and I am so glad. 'Relius deserves to be happy, he is 
 so faithful and honest." 
 
 "He hones' enough and he happy enough, too, I 
 speck," grunted the old woman. "But he ain't gwine 
 be happy long wid dat yaller wench." 
 
 "What's the matter with Emeline?" 
 
 *T ain't trustin' her too fur." 
 
 "You are prejudiced against the girl, mammy, 
 and for no other reason than that she is a mulatto. 
 Isn't 'Relius one ?" 
 
 "If he is, I ain't had no hand in it. You know 
 how me and Reuben was dead sot agin Puss Octavie 
 takin' up wid any dem Perkins niggers, but warn't 
 no nigger whar'd satisfy dat gal but Pete. Dat's how 
 come 'Relius yaller," 
 
 The Doctor smiled, but not sympathetically. 
 
 " 'Relius he so wrop up in dat 'oman now he can't 
 see nuffin tall wrong in her," continued Cindie. "But 
 de day it gwine dawn when his eyes gwine flare wide 
 open. Dar'll be revelations in dat day. Dat gal she too 
 fond of white men folks." 
 
 Dr. Custis still ventured no observation, and the 
 old woman, thoroughly aroused, went on : 
 
104 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Folks dey all de time harpin' on 'Reikis bein' 
 so happy. He happy 'cause he ain't got no better sense. 
 He blinder dan one bat now, he so wrop up in dat 
 wench, but you wait, chile, tell his eyes git shoved 
 open. He ain't gwine be in love den ; he gwine be in 
 hate, and I trimble for dat day." 
 
 The physician turned without a word and went 
 into the house. He gathered up the mail that had 
 accumulated in his absence, and, repairing to his 
 favorite chair, proceeded to look it over. 
 
 "A letter from Fred. Huntington !" he exclaimed. 
 "Well, what have you to say, my fine plutocrat? Let 
 me see." 
 
 Here is a copy of the letter: 
 
 New York, May , i8 
 
 Dear Pierre — That was a beautiful boy whom I 
 saw with you in Richmond. His face is ever before 
 me. I dream of him in the night. And I know why: 
 That boy is my son! I feel it ; I know it. 
 
 In a way, I have kept myself conversant with 
 your movements ever since that little affair of mine 
 with Dorothy Christian some fifteen years or more 
 ago, and when I learned of the sensation you created 
 among your neighbors by adopting a child, I divined 
 at once it was Dorothy's young one — and mine ! I 
 took it for granted that he was an ordinary kid, like 
 most that are born. I never dreamed he was the 
 superb-looking boy he is. Surely, a young fellow is 
 excusable for any folly if the outcome be a lad like 
 that. 
 
 I want the boy, and if you will turn him over 
 to me I will make all atonement possible. I will do 
 everything for his advancement in the world. As 
 soon as he is qualified, he shall go to Harvard, Yale 
 or any other up-to-date university he wishes, and after 
 liis graduation I will see to it that no avenue openable 
 by money or influence is closed against him in the 
 pursuit of success or fame. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 105 
 
 Knowing you as I do, I am confident it is your 
 intention to send the boy through college, to fit him 
 for some profession, regardless of the drain upon your 
 resources. I beg of you not to do it. You are a poor 
 man, possessing little else than your ancestral acres, 
 while I am rich and powerful. It is not necessary that 
 you sacrifice yourself any more for my boy. You have 
 done enough already for him — more, I am sure, than 
 you were able to do. Now, I insist that you let me do 
 the rest. Cordially yours, 
 
 Frederick Barbour Huntington. 
 
 Dr. Custis regarded the letter a moment with a 
 contemptuous smile. Then he struck a match, and, 
 applying the fire to the letter, flung it on the hearth 
 and watched its reduction to ashes. 
 
 'T had begun to soften toward him because of his 
 tenderness toward the little chap on the car," mused 
 the physician. "I was close to forgiving him when I 
 picked up that letter, confident that its contents would 
 justify the feeling. But they only bring back all the 
 old bitterness. He talks of atonement, yet he hasn't a 
 word of sympathy, even of pity, for the boy's mother — 
 the poor girl whom he so basely betrayed and deserted. 
 On the contrary, he seems to be proud of it. To him 
 it is only 'folly' and an 'afifair' — this damnable crime 
 of his. He actually gloats over his ability to beget 
 a boy like Custis. He is excusable because of his 
 qualities as a breeder. There is unblushing animal- 
 ism for you!" 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "Mammy, I have distressing news !" 
 
 Old Cindie looked up, startled, from her task of 
 darning a pair of Custis's stockings. 
 
 "Who done died now?" 
 
 "There are things worse than death, and this is 
 one of them," answered Dr. Custis, "Barbara is com- 
 ing. 
 
 "Oh, sweet Jesus! What we bin doin' for Ole 
 Marster to 'flict us like dat ?" 
 
 "You are getting biblically rusty, mammy. It is 
 an indication that we are in favor with the Lord." 
 And in a voice so like Aliss Warwick's as to throw 
 Cindie into violent laughter, the Doctor quoted : 
 " 'The Lord loveth whom he chasteneth and scourg- 
 eth every son whom he receiveth.' " 
 
 "It gits beyand me, chile, de way you kin mock 
 ole Miss 'Ria," she said, picking vip the little chap's 
 stockings which in her merriment she had let slip to 
 the floor. "How soon 'fo' Miss Barbary riv?" 
 
 "She'll be here on the 3d of July." 
 
 "Den you won't have to buy no pop crackers?" 
 
 "No, she'll furnish all the fireworks necessary." 
 
 "Who comin' wid her?" 
 
 "Rutherford is coming." 
 
 "Bound dat devil's coming." 
 
 "Phyllis, too, is one of the party." 
 
 "Ain't no' mo' comin'?" 
 
 "Two others — Mrs. Crane and son of Jersey City." 
 
 106 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 107 
 
 "Who is her?" 
 
 "A kinswoman of my sanctified brother-in-law." 
 
 "And Miss Barbary took it on herse'f to 'vite 
 dat 'oman and chile to come 'long?" 
 
 "That's all right. She is welcome enough, only 
 she is a type of woman that fatigues me. She is a 
 parvenu through and through. Her husband is super- 
 intendent of a brewery, and, because of it, she imagines 
 she is all of New Jersey — the feminine part of it, at 
 any rate. But enough of Mrs. Crane for the present. 
 The problem of accommodating the party interests me 
 more just now. There are five rooms upstairs — three 
 that are reserved for guests. If they are not enough 
 I presume the little chap will have to give up his room 
 for the time and sleep with me, as he used to do. He 
 would do it gladly enough, I know, but I'd hate to 
 disturb him, he has such a poem of a room and takes 
 such pride in it." 
 
 "And he ain't gwine be 'sturbed, de chile ain't. 
 Can't Miss Barbary and Phyllis take one room, and 
 dat udder 'oman and her chile anudder, and de room 
 whar lef — de wing room — is plenty large and plenty 
 good for what-yo'-name — dat devil Rutherford, I 
 mean ! Lawdy ! De times I used to have wid dat little 
 Satan! Rec'lic' de day he flung a rock at dat calf and 
 broke de po' little creter's leg and how bilin' mad it 
 make you?" 
 
 "I remember. Rutherford was certainly a bad 
 boy. But we'll forgive him the offenses of his boyhood. 
 He is a man now and has doubtless outgrown the 
 savagery of his earlier years. He may overawe us, 
 however, by his marvelous wisdom, coming as he does 
 from the seat of the nation's money-changers. But big 
 head is epidemic in that part of the country, and the 
 son of Van Lew and Barbara Demarest could hardly 
 have escaped the infection." 
 
 The physician gathered up his latest papers and 
 magazines and sought the cool of the oak-shaded lawn. 
 
io8 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 There, doffing his coat, he flung himself on a bench 
 among some crepe myrtle. But the publications he 
 had brought to read lay undisturbed in their wrappers. 
 The beautiful June morning, with its prodigality of 
 blossom and perfume, possessed greater charm for him 
 than printer's ink. Loftier poems than any ever 
 written seemed to him at this moment the brother- 
 hood of ancient oaks that environed his home, and he 
 thought of the departed generations of Custises that 
 had doubtless felt as strong a pride as did he in the 
 magnificent old trees. 
 
 Suddenly the sound of Maud's hoofs awakened 
 him from his dreams of the dead, and a boy's laugh 
 broke in waves of melody on the rose-scented air, 
 making the physician as happy as the youngster who 
 w^as laughing. He pulled himself to a sitting posture 
 and peered through the crepe myrtle. Custis had 
 alighted from Maud and stood with his arm around 
 her neck. 
 
 The Doctor rose, and, emerging from his retreat, 
 moved toward the gate. 
 
 Custis, seeing the beloved form, opened the gate 
 and glided to him. Stooping, the physician kissed 
 the young mouth lifted to his. 
 
 "I wanted to come home last night, Uncle Pierre," 
 said the lad. "But Mrs. Harrison wouldn't let me." 
 
 "I wasn't uneasy ; I knew you were in good hands. 
 Well, how did you enjoy Bessie's clover party? And 
 who found the largest number of four-leaf clovers ?" 
 
 "This kid. Guess how many I found ?" 
 
 "Three?" 
 
 "Cold as ice." 
 
 "Six?" 
 
 "Getting warm." 
 
 "Eight?" 
 
 "Burning." 
 
 "Nine?" 
 
 "Yes, nine." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 109 
 
 "Where's your prize? Is that it — that book 
 stuffed in your pocket?" 
 
 Custis fell against an oak, filling the air with the 
 music of his laughter. 
 
 "What's the matter, son ?" 
 
 "Did you hear me laughing awhile ago?" 
 
 "Yes. What had happened so funny ?" 
 
 "I was thinking what you would say when I 
 showed you this book," 
 
 And the boy drew forth the little volume and 
 handed it to Dr. Custis. 
 
 The latter opened the book, smiling grimly. 
 " 'Jo^ii^ Rockway ; or, Honesty is the Best Policy,' " 
 reading the dual title. "But what sort of honesty v/as 
 Johnnie's? The goody-goody brand, I presume? Of 
 course, Johnnie didn't find it the best policy to be a 
 highwayman or burglar or pickpocket. All that is ex- 
 tremely risky business, and sooner or later would have 
 landed Johnnie in the penitentiary. Oh, no, Johnnie 
 had a contempt for thieves of that sort. He preferred 
 to get hold of his neighbor's possessions in the more 
 subtle way — business acumen is the polite term for 
 it, I believe — and this he found the best policy. Instead 
 of branding him as a criminal, this more refined method 
 of robbing his fellows made him eminently rich and 
 respectable. It gave him an entree into society and a 
 high seat in the congregation of saints. Johnnie, of 
 course, becamie President of the United States ?" 
 
 "No," answered Custis, laughing. 
 
 "No? And yet he went to Sunday School, loved 
 his church and his country, asked God to bless papa 
 and mamma and Johnnie and damn the rest of the 
 world? He did all these things, besides saving his 
 pennies, and yet he never got to the White House ?" 
 
 "No ; he died, Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "Johnnie died ? Wasn't that sad ?" 
 
 The physician stroked his chin, looking at his 
 feet in solemn abstraction. 
 
no REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "And the angels kidnapped honest Johnnie ? Per- 
 haps they wanted another httle choir boy. My ! How 
 Cousin Maria would be shocked to hear me talk so!" 
 
 "By the way, she stopped me as I was riding by 
 the house and made me go in to get a glass of 
 lemonade." 
 
 "What's the matter with that woman? The ex- 
 travagance of her ! Lemonade ! Lemonade ! And 
 she cut a lemon — a whole lemon for you, son? And 
 you an unbaptized, unregenerate young pagan! Sup- 
 pose you take Maud to the pasture and then come back 
 and read all about little Johnnie to Uncle Pierre." 
 
 Custis sprang astride Maud, and with a neigh of 
 delight she galloped off. 
 
 Dr. Custis watched them until they were hidden 
 among the trees of the orchard, beyond which stretched 
 the pasture over acres of as fine grazing land as lay 
 along the James. 
 
 "A week more and they will be here," he mused. 
 "And our heaven will be turned into hell. For wherever 
 Barbara is, there hell is. I feel just as if she were 
 going to make the little chap her particular target. I 
 have never enlightened her on the matter of his origin 
 — a fact which, of course, has only served to accentuate 
 her unreasoning bitterness toward him, and in the 
 years she has kept away she has been piling up venom 
 until now she can contain herself no longer. She must 
 see the boy face to face ; she must vent her spite upon 
 him, else she will go mad or die of the pressure of 
 accumulated hate. She is coming here for no other 
 purpose. Now, let her attempt it ! She can say what- 
 ever she likes to me ; I have been used to it all my life. 
 But just let her dare wound him — that Christ-fibcred 
 boy, who himself never wounded anybody or anything 
 in his life, whom everybody loves, at whose coming 
 everybody smiles, even loveless old Maria Warwick! 
 Yes, just attempt it, Mrs. Demarest, and you will 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH in 
 
 find me more ferocious than any tigress that ever 
 fought in defense of her cub !" 
 
 After a Httle while Custis returned, eating a June 
 apple. In his left hand was another, larger and mel- 
 lower, which he slipped into the physician's hand. 
 
 "Custis, son," began the Doctor, pocketing the 
 apple, "you hear mammy and I refer now and then to 
 my sister, Mrs. Demarest?" 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Pierre. Has — has anything happened 
 to her?" 
 
 "No, but something is going to happen to us. She 
 is coming to see us next week." 
 
 He drew a series of sighs. 
 
 "It is not pleasant to say what I am going to say 
 of Barbara," he resumed, "but I feel as if I ought to 
 tell you what sort of a woman she is, to prepare you 
 in a way for any treatment you are likely to receive 
 from my sister. If I were asked to name the most 
 unlovable person I ever knew, truth would compel 
 me to name Mrs. Demarest. She is selfishness incar- 
 nated. She speaks, she acts, as if she were the only 
 person born with any rights, as if everybody else were 
 born to serve her." 
 
 "She is nothing like you then," remarked Custis, 
 feeling somewhat depressed. 
 
 "Before she was nineteen she incurred the ever- 
 lasting wrath of father and mother. She married a 
 carpet-bagger! For a southern girl to do such a thing 
 in those days meant disinheritance and ostracism. And 
 Barbara had to suffer the penalty of her rash act. Thus 
 cast from the parental roof, and with the door of every 
 southern home closed against her, she followed her 
 profligate husband to New York, where, shortly after- 
 wards, he became conventionally decent and entered 
 the Methodist ministry." 
 
 The speaker paused to brush away a measuring 
 worm ascending his sleeve. 
 
 "The South-hating Republican sheets of the North 
 
112 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 made great capital of the event. Barbara was described 
 as a beautiful, spirited southern girl, who, because of 
 her loyal views and her marriage to a gallant Federal 
 officer, had been cruelly discarded by her heartless 
 Bourbon parents and driven forth with her brave 
 husband from the wicked rebel community. Father 
 was painted as black as Republican venom could do it. 
 His tyranny as parent was not only shown up, but he 
 was also portrayed as the crudest of slaveholders, 
 while in truth his love for his slaves and their devotion 
 to him were known far and wide. No Custis except 
 Barbara was ever known to be cruel to a negro. She 
 would slap and cuff them without the least provoca- 
 tion. One day I found poor mammy crying piteously, 
 because Barbara, in one of her devilish tempers, had 
 struck the poor creature over the head with a clothes 
 brush. Another time, because Aurelius's mother, 
 who was her maid, didn't do something for her as 
 well as she wished it done, she sprang at poor Octavia 
 and pushed her all the way down the stairs. We were 
 all frightened out of our wits. We thought surely 
 the girl was dead, but, to our relief, she was still 
 breathing when father picked her up. She received 
 internal injuries, however, of which she died in less 
 than three months. She had just come out of her con- 
 finement with Aurelius when the thing happened ; 
 which made the deed doubly atrocious. Father and 
 mother, fiery secessionists and believers in slavery as 
 they were, were never the same after Octavia's death, 
 because they felt, as I feel to this day, and always 
 shall, that Barbara Custis murdered Aurelius's 
 mother!" 
 
 "That was terrible !" exclaimed Custis, shudder- 
 ing. "How could she ever be happy after that?" 
 
 "Nothing she does ever moves her to compunc- 
 tion. She would feci no remorse if she had killed a 
 hundred negroes." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 113 
 
 "Was her husband, apart from his being a carpet- 
 bagger, a bad man ? You called him a profligate." 
 
 "And he was a profligate — the meanest I ever 
 knew. He was destitute of honor, a stranger to 
 decency. He was a bully, a sneak, a vulgarian. And 
 he is the same to-day as he was in those days, despite 
 the sanctimonious role he is playing to the tune of 
 $5,000 a year. It seems incredible that a congrega- 
 tion could tolerate such a man as Van Lew Demarest ; 
 but, from all I can glean, his parishioners are made 
 up largely of the new rich and their sycophants — snobs 
 and parvenus — who, indeed, would be satisfied with 
 no other sort of man. Yes, the marriage of my sister 
 to this fellow Demarest," continued Dr. Custis, after 
 a minute's pause, "was a crushing humiliation to us. 
 Father and mother writhed beneath the shame of it 
 the remainder of their lives. The loss of all their 
 slaves, the killing of my twin brothers, Warwick and 
 Spottswood, at Newmarket — none of these calamities 
 was as severe a blow to them as was this mad act of 
 Barbara's. The emancipation of the negroes and the 
 devastation of war reduced us to comparative poverty. 
 When father died there was little else than Holly Hill 
 left of the Custis estate, and to me he bequeathed the 
 plantation, cutting Barbara off without a cent. She 
 has never forgiven me for her disinheritance, as if 
 I had had anything to do with it. If I had been dis- 
 posed to divide with her and the blackguard to whom 
 she is married — who, by the way, had publicly boasted 
 that he would one day be master of Holly Hill — I 
 should have found my hands tied. Father had done 
 that securely. The will declared that in the event of any 
 attempt on my part to divide the estate with my sister, 
 Barbara Demarest, from any sentiment of mistaken 
 justice or misplaced generosity, I was to forfeit the 
 whole. Barbara knows all this, and yet she has nagged 
 me and abused me shamefully, and that carpet-bagger 
 cur, too, has had a lot to say in the matter. They 
 
114 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 threatened to contest the will, Ijiit they never dared, 
 they saw the weakness of their case so clearly." 
 
 "Feeling toward you as she does, why should 
 she wish to come here?" asked Custis. 
 
 "Well might you ask such a question, son. I have 
 asked it of myself repeatedly since I received her let- 
 ter. This will make her second visit to Holly Hill 
 since she first went to New York with Van Lew Dem- 
 arest. Of course, she didn't dare come here while 
 father lived. He had not been dead six months, how- 
 ever, before she came. It was not because she wanted 
 to see me, not because she loved me. It was because 
 she hated me, because she wanted to Jiave it out with 
 me, to use her words. The following year you came, 
 enabling me to return an emphatic affirmative to the 
 question, Is life worth living? She was furious when 
 she learned you were here — furious because she thought 
 Uncle Pierre would leave you Holly Hill at his death, 
 as he will certainly do. She has been threatening us 
 with another visit ever since you came, and at last, 
 she is coming. This time it is to have it out with both 
 of us, hut with you particularly !" 
 
 "With me? What have I done to her?" asked 
 the lad, wonderingly. 
 
 "Nothing, son, nothing. You are here ; Uncle 
 Pierre loves you as if you were his own son ; you will 
 inherit what little Uncle Pierre leaves behind. This 
 is the ground of her grudge against you. It has been 
 growing, has this grudge, all the years you have been 
 here, and she must have it out with you, like the she- 
 devil she is. But fear not. Uncle Pierre will stand by 
 his boy, though a thousand she-devils come to rend 
 you. I have told you all this because I thought "it 
 wise to prepare you for anything she may say or do. 
 Promise me this : You will take to heart nothing she 
 says to you, nothing she does to you, no matter how 
 hellish it is in its cruelty?" 
 
 "Yes, LTncle Pierre, for your sake." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Far'well, Mr. Hap'ness. Mouty sorry to tell 
 you 'vity. Howdy, Mr. Trouble? Walk in, suh. 
 Lemme res' yo' hat." 
 
 "Who in de name of Gawd is you jabberin' to, 
 granny ?" 
 
 "Who I jabberin' to? Dat any yo' business, 
 boy? I was jes' tellin' Mr. Hap'ness whar bin livin' 
 wid us all dese yeahs — jes' tellin' de gen'man 'vity 
 and tellin' Air, Trouble to come in and make hisse'f 
 at home long's he done come widout anybody axin' 
 him to." 
 
 Aurelius gave one of his characteristic laughs, 
 the woods resounding with the mirthful echo of it. 
 
 And just here Dr. Custis, equipped for his drive 
 to Elk Bluff, appeared on the scene. 
 
 "I am glad you are going with the wagon, 
 'Relius," he said. "There will be a lot of heavy trunks 
 and other baggage to lift, and you are so much stronger 
 than your grandfather." 
 
 "Dat's de way I look at it, Marse Pierre," returned 
 the mulatto giant. "I spec dar'll be a whole passel 
 of big trunks, as you say." 
 
 "Yes, each of the women will bring a department 
 store with her, and no doubt Rutherford will have as 
 elaborate a wardrobe, he is such an up-to-date dresser 
 and all-round sport. I imagine he changes his clothes 
 before every meal." 
 
Ii6 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "He sho is one dandy if he do dat," grinned Au- 
 relius. 
 
 "He one fool, whyn't you say and be done wid 
 it," grunted his matter-of-fact grandmother. 
 
 "I gwine on to de depo', I is," said AureHus, 
 springing into the wagon. 
 
 "All right, 'Relius. Move on. We'll overtake 
 you on the road." 
 
 And with a word of command to his team, Aure- 
 Hus started off, singing a Shiloh hymn popular at 
 "baptizings" : 
 "Down in de Jurd'n, down in de Jiird'n, down in de Jur-dan 
 \^Tiar John de Baptis' baptized de Son of Man." 
 
 "It will be about sundown before we come back, 
 mammy," said Dr. Custis, as he got into the carriage. 
 "You know the long distances we have to cover going 
 and returning, and there is always the possibility of 
 the train's being late." 
 
 Here Custis came bounding out of the house, 
 immaculately collared and cuffed, and wearing a dainty 
 blue-and-white negligee shirt with a crimson tie. 
 
 The physician surveyed him from head to foot 
 with a proud smile as he paused beside the carriage. 
 
 "You arc a swell boy, and no mistake! Isn't that 
 what Virginia called you?" 
 
 "That's what she said I was." 
 
 "And she was right. Wasn't she, mammy? You 
 would never take that boy for a hayseed to see him 
 diked up like that, would you?" 
 
 "And he ain't none, neider. Is you, honey? You 
 lives in de country, but you a sight mo' citified- 
 lookin' dan any de town folks whar come up heah fum 
 down dar. Ain't nuffin countrified rior po'fo'ksy "bout 
 mammy's boy, is dar? No, suh! Miss Barb'ry 
 ain't got nuffin' 'tall like dis," putting her arm about 
 the boy's form, "is she, Marse Pierre? Gawd love 
 you ! Mammy do feci sometimes like she could squez 
 and squez you tell dar ain't no sweetness lef o' you." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 117 
 
 "Mammy, don't you kill any of my roosters!" 
 exclaimed the boy, as she gently released him from 
 her embrace and he sprang up beside Dr. Custis. 
 
 "Don't you gni yo'sef no werriment, honey, 'bout 
 dat. Mammy's ole mouf mout water for fried rooster 
 leg tell Gab'el blow his trumpet and she ain't gwine to 
 kill none of yo' roosters for Miss Barb'ry, nor any of 
 her ole carpet-bagger folks if dey was starvin' for 
 chicken. I'd stan' up in 'fiance of Isr'el for you and yo' 
 roosters. No, suh, dey mout strut round heah thicker'n 
 hoppergrasses in de pasture and mammy she'd let 'em 
 strut. She ain't pesterin' yo' roosters, honey." 
 
 When they had covered about half a mile, Custis 
 asked : 
 
 "What kind of a young man is your nephew. Uncle 
 Pierre?" 
 
 "He is everything you are not. I am afraid my 
 pure boy will find my nephew's atmosphere nothing 
 less than stifling." 
 
 "And your niece? Is she, too, unlovable?" 
 
 "I don't know, son. I haven't seen Phyllis since 
 she was a baby. So I am not prepared to size her up 
 until I have seen her again. She is about your age. 
 But lovable or unlovable, she will cause no decline in 
 Yancey stock, I am sure." 
 
 "She'll cause no slump there," answered the boy, 
 with a dash of audacity foreign to him. And then he 
 blushed because of it. 
 
 "Though I have never seen Virginia," said the 
 Doctor, "I have conceived a positive affection for the 
 child. I find myself thinking of her continually. I 
 can't get it out of my head that she is the one destined 
 to round out your life, to make it complete." 
 
 Custis reached up and snapped off a dogwood 
 branch tickling his cheek, and, sinking back in his seat, 
 began to strip it of its leaves. 
 
 "And Mrs. Crane?" he said, pursuing his inqui- 
 
ii8 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 ries, after a minute or so. ''Shall we get no pleasure 
 out of her coming?" 
 
 "None whatever. She is not of the better and 
 broader class of northern people that lead the nation 
 in progressive thinking. She is of the narrow, provin- 
 cial type of Yankee — the huckstering type — with 
 whom the question 'Will it pay ?' is always uppermost. 
 She is a Republican, of course, as her sister-fossil in 
 the South is a Democrat, because it is the respectable 
 thing, and, like her Dixie counterpart, she adheres 
 to orthodoxy in religion as in politics. Say, isn't some- 
 body behind us ?" 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Pierre. Good morning, George," 
 said Custis, as a lad of his age, painfully attenuated, 
 appeared on horseback alongside the carriage. 
 
 "Howdy, Custis? Howdy, Doctor?" 
 
 "Good morning, George. How are the people 
 around Antioch?" 
 
 "Much as common, 'cept — 'cept " 
 
 "Your mother? Does she want me?" 
 
 "Yas, suh. She is right smartly complainin', ma 
 is. She in ter'ble pain all day long, and pappy he send 
 me off after you." 
 
 "I'll have to leave you, son," said the physician 
 aside to Custis. "There is another little one due at the 
 Hatcher home, and as I was present when the others 
 came, I presume I'll have to be on hand to welcome 
 this one. But I hate to leave you to face the enemy 
 alone. It looks cowardly. What shall I do?" 
 
 "Go to Mrs. Hatcher. I'll come out of the ordoal 
 unscathed." 
 
 "Brave boy!" slapping Custis on the arm. 
 
 Then he turned to young Hatcher. 
 
 "Well, George," he said, stcj^ping out of the car- 
 riage. "My horses all happen to be in service just now. 
 Do you think we can make the trip together on your 
 horse ?" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 119 
 
 "I reckon we can, sir. Me and pappy we ride any 
 time that way. We ain't got but one horse, you know." 
 
 "Well, you and I will attempt it together." 
 
 The lad sprang to the ground. Doctor Custis 
 got into the saddle, and George climbed up behind him. 
 
 "Hold fast to me, son. Hug me round the waist — 
 tight, now, just as if I were your sweetheart. I want 
 no broken bones to mend in addition to my other job." 
 
 Here he leaned over toward the carriage and drew 
 Custis's face to his. 
 
 "Good-bye, son," he murmured, kissing the young- 
 ster thrice. "Good-bye. Keep a brave front." 
 
 Within a mile of Elk Bluff Custis overtook Aure- 
 lius in the wagon, and together they jogged on, talking, 
 until they came to Hardie's store. Custis had just time 
 to shake hands with the merchant and to slake his 
 thirst when the train pulled into the station. 
 
 "Who y'all come to meet?" asked Mr. Hardie. 
 
 "Uncle Pierre's sister, Mrs. Demarest," answered 
 Custis. 
 
 "Barbary Custis! Moses and the Prophets!" 
 
 And the storekeeper inwardly prayed that the 
 cup, if possible, might pass. 
 
 Miss Cornelia Carter, who had been a girl with" 
 Mrs. Demarest, dropped a remnant of polka-dot satine 
 that had captured her fancy, and gasped vicariously 
 for the community. 
 
 Aunt Millie Bowles groaned distressingly, and, 
 turning from some bandannas of barbaric hue, sought 
 in her pipe a solace for her sudden sorrow of soul. 
 
 In the meantime the visitors had alighted. There 
 was a young man stylishly dressed ; stout, dark, hand- 
 some. There were two women — comely, cold-eyed 
 Amazons, betraying a savage love for scarlet that 
 would have turned the most amiable bull into an illus- 
 tration of the strenuous life. There was a girl of 
 about fifteen — a fair-faced, gentle-aired child in sailor 
 hat, white shirtwaist and blue skirt. And there was 
 
I20 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 a little lad of seven — not more — playing patriot, be- 
 cause, in his innocence, he couldn't see the wickedness 
 of it. He wore a soldier suit and cap, and a sword 
 depended from his belt. Two flags waved from his 
 breast, another from his cap and a fourth, larger than 
 the others, was in his hand. 
 
 One of the Amazons was dark, the other fair. 
 Custis approached the dark one, because he had 
 been told that Mrs, Demarest was a brunette. He 
 doffed his hat, saying winsomely: 
 
 "This is Mrs. Demarest, I presume?" 
 
 She started, betraying a look of unmistakable 
 admiration, as did the others of the party ; but the 
 next moment, incensed with herself for her unguard- 
 edness, she became severely Barbara Demarest again, 
 
 "Where's Pierre Custis ?" she demanded, ignoring 
 the boy's question. 
 
 "We started to the station together, but he was 
 overtaken on the way and had to go to see a ladv 
 who is ill." 
 
 "It must have been a very urgent case." 
 
 "It was." 
 
 "Very, very urgent?" 
 
 "It was," 
 
 She turned, with a metallic laugh, to Mrs, Crane 
 and whispered something; at which the latter giggled 
 vulgarly, 
 
 "Don't you girls know it's shockingly bad form 
 to whisper in company ?" observed Rutherford, clearing 
 his throat, 
 
 "Oh, you be quiet, old Nosey!" snapped his 
 mother. 
 
 "You hadn't ought to do it," insisted the young 
 man. Then he laughed knowingly, "You think I 
 don't know what you girls were whispering about? 
 Say, I wonder if mother and child are doing well under 
 the circumstances," he added, caressing his nuistache 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 121 
 
 and looking- up at the sky. "Shall I wire 'Doc' to keep 
 us supplied with bulletins ?" 
 
 "You horrid thing!" cried Mrs. Crane. "Ain'<- 
 he terrible, Bab?" 
 
 "He is a naughty boy," said Mrs. Demarest. 
 
 "He is something fierce," added the lady from 
 Jersey, where everything is either "lovely" or "fierce." 
 
 Custis, repelled by their coarseness, looked wist- 
 fully toward Aurelius, longing to be with him ; but he 
 was just at the beginning of his disagreeable task. So 
 he ventured again: 
 
 "Our carriage is here, Mrs. Demarest, to take you 
 and your friends home. Our wagon is also here to 
 take your baggage. If you will kindly give me the 
 checks, I will " 
 
 "It isn't a lady's place to attend to her baggage 
 when a gentleman is traveling with her," retorted Mrs. 
 Demarest. "Rutherford, you have the checks. Give 
 them to this boy." 
 
 "Sure, I've got 'em." 
 
 He drew them from his pocket and handed them 
 to Custis. 
 
 "We've three trunks and five wheels," he said. 
 "I wish you'd see that the wheels aren't damaged in 
 any way." 
 
 Custis, glad to escape from them even for a 
 moment, hastened to where Aurelius stood and gave 
 him the checks. 
 
 "I'll help you with the trunks and bicycles, 
 'Relius." 
 
 "You ain't gwine do no sich thing, spilin' yo' 
 Sunday close for nothin'. 'Sides, I'd ruther break/ 
 my back squar' in two dan see you make a nigger of! 
 yo' sef for Miss Barb'ry or any her tribe." ' 
 
 "But I want to help you, 'Relius," pleaded the 
 lad. 
 
 "You ain't gwine do it, I don't keer how you want 
 
122 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 to. Go 'long, boy ! Mind what I say ! Plenty niggers 
 hangin' round heah to gin me a lif ." 
 
 Custis reluctantly returned to the visitors. 
 
 'This way, please," he said, addressing Ruther- 
 ford this time, hoping to receive more decent treat- 
 ment from the young man than he had received from 
 his mother. Reaching the carriage, he stepped aside 
 and allowed Rutherford to do the office of gallant. 
 
 "I guess I'll have to ride with you, as the carriage 
 is full," said young Demarest, as he climbed up beside 
 Custis. 
 
 Then Trojan and Maud, in obedience to their 
 young master's word to move, started off gaily in the 
 direction of Holly Hill. 
 
 "I don't guess it is as swift down here as up at 
 Coney Island," remarked Rutherford, addressing Mrs. 
 Crane. 
 
 "I guess not," replied the brewer's wife, to whom 
 Coney Island was one of the Seven Wonders of the 
 World. 
 
 "By the way," said young Demarest to Custis, 
 "I've been reading in the Sun lately about those hay- 
 seeds down South and out West — Populists, I believe, 
 you call 'em ? Any of the lobsters in these parts ?" 
 
 "Uncle Pierre is a Populist." 
 
 The embryo banker slapped his leg and laughed 
 superiorly. 
 
 "Doc is a Populist, is he? Well, that's a good 
 one." 
 
 "Oh, mamma, look!" cried Carroll Crane. "What 
 are those things ?" 
 
 "You little ass!" exclaimed his mother. "They arc 
 shccix Don't you know nothing? Nobody wouldn't 
 think you'd ever been anywhere!" 
 
 "When, in fact, you have been to Elizabeth, Rail- 
 way and Hoboken, haven't you. kid?" said Rutherford. 
 
 "Don't people down South live on nothing but 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 123 
 
 cabbage?" sneered Mrs. Crane. "We keep passing 
 fields and fields of 'em. Look now !" 
 
 Rutherford and his mother exchanged amused 
 glances and then both laughed. Even poor Custis 
 smiled. 
 
 "Who is the ass now ?" cried Rutherford. "That's 
 one on you, Lottie, old girl." 
 
 "Ain't them cabbage?" 
 
 "I should call that tobacco. Ain't I right, young 
 man?" 
 
 "That's what we call it in Virginia," returned 
 Custis. 
 
 "How do you expect me to know what tobacco 
 is if I never saw none growing before?" demanded 
 the brewer's spouse. 
 
 "But you know what cabbage is, surely?" said 
 Mrs. Demarest, sneeringly. 
 
 It was now Carroll's turn, which Mrs. Demarest 
 had taken from him. 
 
 "Then how do you expect me to know what sheep 
 are if I never saw any before?" demanded the seven- 
 year-old, who could speak better English than could 
 his mother, whose age was six times seven. 
 
 "Good for you, kid !" yelled the irrepressible Ruth- 
 erford. 
 
 They had come to a gate. Custis sprang to the 
 ground and opened it. As the horses started to pass 
 through Rutherford seized the whip and laid it with 
 all the force he could command upon the backs of the 
 animals. Unused to such treatment, the gentle crea- 
 tures were stung in an instant to madness and plunged 
 recklessly ahead, threatening destruction to the vehicle 
 and tragedy to its occupants. The women shrieked 
 and declared they would be killed ; the children moaned 
 and cried in abject fright; while the author of the mis- 
 chief, having lost his head completely, stood up, pulling 
 the maddened horses first in one direction and then in 
 
124 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 the other and calling them the choicest names in the 
 vocabulary of the Bowery. 
 
 "Stop that, for Heaven's sake !" thundered Custis, 
 in a voice of command he had never used before. 
 
 And then he ran forward and caught the fright*- 
 ened horses. But they were not to be pacified in a 
 moment, even by the sight of their beloved master. 
 They had received too grievous wounds ; nobody had 
 ever treated them so before, 
 
 "Maud ! Trojan !" said the boy, gently, as he 
 planted himself before them and threw an arm about 
 the neck of each. 
 
 This calmed them ; they had recognized his voice, 
 his caress. Still they were not themselves. They were 
 as little children sobbing after the violence of their 
 grief is spent. And the lad continued to soothe them, 
 talking to them as to little children whose feelings 
 have been hurt. 
 
 "Maud, sweetheart ! I didn't do it ! Trojan, boy ! 
 you know I wouldn't hurt you ! There now ! There 
 now! It's all right! It will never happen again! 
 Never !" 
 
 And they understood ; they knew he hadn't done it. 
 Tears gathered in his eyes ; he couldn't restrain them, 
 much as he desired to do it before these coarse, cold 
 upstarts. It was if the lash had been laid on his own 
 back, he felt so exquisitely the pain, the hurt of others, 
 man, beast or bird. 
 
 "Please don't do that again," he said, returning 
 to his seat beside Rutherford. "Our horses are not 
 used to that sort of treatment, and they don't under- 
 stand it. They are ruled by gentleness, not harshness." 
 
 "What in the devil do you keep a whip for then? 
 For ornament?" with a sneer. 
 
 "It is not kept for the purpose of vulgarly obtrud- 
 ing our mastership. We best sliow that in our kindness 
 to them, and they are not slow to recognize it." 
 
 "Mercy! What a temper!" exclaimed Mrs. Dem- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 125 
 
 arest, in an aside to Mrs. Crane, but intended, never- 
 theless, for the boy's ear. 
 
 He gave her words the he, however, by driving on 
 in serene silence. Uncle Pierre loved him, and so did 
 everybody else whose love was worth having, and he 
 smiled, he could have laughed, because of the joy it 
 gave him. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Mrs. Hatcher had been safely deHvered of her 
 seventh child, and the grateful husband and father 
 stood entreating Dr. Custis to accept a little sum of 
 money he had managed to lay aside for the purpose ; 
 but he could not persuade the physician to pocket the 
 lucre which represented so much self-denial. 
 
 "I don't want your money, Phil, and I won't have 
 it," thundered Dr. Custis. 
 
 "But, Doctor, it ain't right for me never to pay 
 you nothing," argued Hatcher. "Here you've been 
 tending us all these years and coming to Bettie with 
 every child, from George down to the little fellow 
 just arrived, and not a red cent have you ever gOt from 
 me. I am ashamed of myself." 
 
 "And I'd be ashamed of myself to take a cent from 
 you. Are you better off now, at the birth of your 
 seventh child, than you were when the first came? 
 If you were not able to pay me anything then, I hardly 
 think you are now, with six more to feed and clothe." 
 
 And this lover of his fellows thought of the little 
 board house, with its bare floors and walls ; of the 
 coarse fare to which this hard-working man and his 
 family sat down day after day ; of the shoddy rai- 
 ment, and the scantiness of it, that covered their bodies ; 
 of the gnarled hands and prematurely bent form of the 
 father ; of the equally bent figure and habitually tired 
 expression of the mother. And drink was not the 
 cause of Hatcher's poverty. No man was "soberer 
 
 126 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 127 
 
 tHan he, no man worked harder, no man loved his 
 family more. 
 
 "You won't take the money, then. Doctor?" said 
 Hatcher, at last convinced of his inability to move the 
 physician. 
 
 "Not a damned cent of it! And if you mention 
 the subject to me again I'll break your head !" 
 
 Hatcher grinned. 
 
 "I mean it," asseverated the Doctor. "Look here, 
 Phil," he added, in softer tones, "why is it your 
 children didn't go to school last winter?" 
 
 Hatcher hesitated, evidently embarrassed. 
 
 "I'd jest as well tell the truth 'bout it. Doctor." 
 he said at last. " 'Twas 'cause they didn't have no 
 shoes fit to wear." 
 
 "That's what I was told. It's an outrage, as hard 
 as you and your wife work. Now, suppose you take 
 the money you are trying to make me rob you of and 
 buy shoes for the youngsters. See to it that they are 
 not kept from school next session on that account. 
 My boy has never had to stay from school because he 
 had no shoes, and why should your children? You 
 work harder than I do. For all I do is to gallop about 
 the country, shortening the route to heaven for you 
 blood-bought saints and lengthening the road to hell 
 for myself by the exercise and fresh air I get out of 
 the business. But I must go. It's half past nine." 
 
 It was half past ten when he came in sight of 
 home. The lights were all out, and appearances in- 
 dicative of utmost serenity. If there had been a storm, 
 a calm had followed, and everybody, if not sleeping 
 the sleep of the just, was at least asleep, or seemed 
 to be. 
 
 He stabled Hatcher's horse and started toward the 
 house. The moonlight revealed the figure of old Cin- 
 die seated in the open doorway. 
 
 "I thought you'd never come, honey," she said, 
 rising. 
 
128 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Dear old heart!" he exclaimed, taking her hand 
 and stroking it affectionately. "What keeps you out 
 of bed so late ?" 
 
 "De devil— dat's who !" 
 
 "What has he been doing, or rather she?" 
 
 "Well mout you say she. I bin sort of believing 
 for a long time dat de devil was a 'oman. Now, I 
 knows it ! Don't you know Miss Barbary ain't bin in 
 de house no time 'fo' she pitched into her devilment?" 
 
 'T expected that." 
 
 "I done so, too, but I thought she'd come to it 
 by 'grees. Lawdy, honey, she wussen I ever seed her 
 in her young days. She went all over de house fum 
 one eend to de udder. Ain't nuffin 'tall slip dem eagle 
 eyes of hern. 'Things awful spruced up 'bout heah/ 
 sez she, scornful-like. 'Wouldn't aknowed de ole place ! 
 Bran' new upright pianny, too !' sez she, when she come 
 to de parlor. 'De ole squar' pianny whar bin in de 
 family so long ain't good 'nough now ! How we hay- 
 seeds do swell up ! Nuffin' like it ! Us de only gravels 
 whar on de beach/ sez she, scoffin'-like, and den she 
 bus' loose in dat devil-wise laugh of hern. 'Bath in de 
 house, 'pon my soul,' sez she, lif'in' up her hands and 
 screamin' like she done gone clar' crazy. 'Yas, bath 
 in de house, jes' like town folks ! Whew ! Whew !' 
 she whistled, and den she grunted and den she whistled 
 agin. 'We sho is done parted fum de ancient ways,' 
 sez she. But you oughts to seed her when she come 
 to de chile's room. Wouldn't nobody 'sputed dat de 
 devil's one 'oman den ; no, sub, Brer Jasper hissef 
 would bin bound to gin in and cv'ry Gawd's one of 
 dem Shiloh niggers too, whar stand so stiff for de 
 letter of de doctrine." 
 
 "What had she to say of the little chap's room ?" 
 asked Dr. Custis. "You know it was her room when 
 she was a girl?" 
 
 " *I never had no sich room as dis,' sez she to dat 
 Yankee white 'oman whar she brung wid her, 'and I 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 129 
 
 was a Custis. I warn't no brat witdoiit a name, I warn't, 
 sez she. 'Room all in blue and white,' sez she, so mad- 
 like she could swar. 'Donnas on de wall!' sez she, 
 pinting to dem pitchers of Jesus and his ma whar Mrs. 
 Nelson, you know, sent de chile Chris'mas' 'fo' las'. 
 'Brass bedstid and springs !' she went on. 'Why, Ruth- 
 erford, whar lives in New York town, ain't got no 
 better room dan dat little in'loper is got heah,' sez she. 
 And she even went and pick up de chile's toothbresh 
 and his nailbresh and his ha'rbresh and his closebresh, 
 gruntin' devil-like as she flung 'em down agin. And 
 den she went to some roses whar he sot on his desk 
 dis mawnin' and smelt 'em and turn off like dey don't 
 smell well and den she call him some'n dat sound like 
 asfedity. I dunno what in de name of Gawd she 
 mean by it. She suttin didn't mean dat de chile smell 
 like dat stuff, for ain't nufhn smell sweeter'n he do 
 and ain't nuffin smell wussen ole asfedity." 
 
 "Asafoetida ?" repeated Dr. Custis. "Oh!" he 
 added, smiling in spite of himself. "She said he is 
 aesthetic, didn't she?" 
 
 "Dat's what she call de chile! Dat's de jaw- 
 breaker she flung at him ! What Miss Barbary mean 
 by dat word?" 
 
 "It is a word applied to people who love what is 
 beautiful — flowers, for instance. She used it properly 
 in his case, for there is no more ardent lover of the 
 beautiful than he; but I imagine she said it with a 
 sneer, as if she thought it presumptuous of him to 
 be sesthetic." 
 
 "Dat's 'zactly de way she sed it. 'De idee,' sez 
 she, 'of puttin' my boy in dat ole wing room and dis 
 little in'loper and brat got my room !' " 
 
 ^ "She is a damned fool!" exclaimed the Doctor, 
 beside himself with wrath. "H it had been necessary, 
 Custis would cheerfully have given up his room for 
 the time, and it would have been my wish that he 
 should have done so, for the lesson of all lessons I 
 
130 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 have tried to burn into the httle chap is to think of 
 himself last in all things and on all occasions. But 
 when that she-devil comes into my house uninvited 
 and essays the role of dictator, I will see her in hell 
 before I'll submit to it!" 
 
 "Hole on, honey ! Don't git off yo' handle yit ! 
 'Tain't time. You ain't hearn all she done. Think 
 she didn't order dat devil Rutherford's trunk and 
 things to be toted up and sot in de chile's room ?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Dat's what she done." 
 
 "But 'Relius didn't obey her?" 
 
 "He warn't gwine to do it, and I warn't gwine 
 to let him do it. He swar he wouldn't. And den she 
 pitched in and 'bused me and him scan'lous. But we 
 gin her good as she send. Den de chile he step up, 
 calm-like, and tole 'Relius to tote de trunk to his room. 
 'Relius 'fused pint blank at fus'. Den de chile he laid 
 his hand lovin'-like on 'Relius's arm and look up at 
 'Relius out of dem paradise blue eyes of his n. Dat 
 was more'n 'Relius could stand, 'cause you know he'd 
 lay down out dar on de wood pile, dat nigger would, 
 and let de chile chop his head off, he love de chile so. 
 And so 'Relius stooped down to take up de trunk and 
 de chile he stooped down to hep tote it. But 'Relius 
 he sot it down agin and swar he wouldn't tech it if 
 de chile didn't let loose it. Tf I is a nigger.' sez 'Relius, 
 'dey ain't makin' no nigger outen you.' And de chile he 
 had to let loose, 'cause he see 'Relius ain't no foolin'. 
 Den he took me by de arm and march me 'way." 
 
 "My boy ! My little hero !" exclaimed Dr. Custis, 
 suddenly softened. "You have outgrown me, little 
 chap ! You have outstripped your teacher in ethics. 
 Forbearance I desired of you, but such as you have 
 shown I did not expect. Uncle Pierre could not have 
 acted as you did. Never! Even now, in the light of 
 your divine example, I feel as if T could rush up stairs 
 and drive the whole crowd out of the house. Thev are 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 131 
 
 not guests. They are invaders. I regard them as 
 nothing else. And I presume that young cur," turning 
 to Cindie, "stood by and meekly allowed his mother 
 to make an exhibition of herself by taking the reins 
 of authority in her own hands, by riding ruthlessly 
 over the rights of my boy? The perfumed puppy! 
 If he had had a spark of manhood he would have 
 ended the disgraceful scene by insisting that his trunk 
 be taken to the room assigned him." 
 
 "To do de devil jestice," said Cindie, "de boy 
 he look like he hated it moutily. He kep' bitin' his lips 
 and mutterin' to hissef like he wanted to tell his ma to 
 shet up ; but you know he didn't dassent 'less he pre- 
 par'd to die. And all de res' of 'em hated de way 
 Miss Barbary carried on, even dat Yankee white 'oman. 
 De chillen dey took a mouty shine to de chile and 
 when Miss Barbary she warn't round you could see 
 'em bofe — Miss Barbary's gal and de little make-like 
 sojer boy — sidin up whar de chile was, like dey feel 
 so sorry for de way Miss Barbary done, like dey want 
 to love him." 
 
 "That's the way of children," said the physician. 
 "God bless them !" 
 
 "And onct when Miss Barbary she warn't nowhars 
 in sight, Phyllis she says to de chile, so he tole me 
 'Don't mind what mamma sez to you. I'd give I dunno 
 what if she wouldn't carry on so,' " 
 
 "Phyllis is all right. I love her for that," and the 
 Doctor's voice betrayed an unsteadiness. "Where is 
 Custis? In my room?" 
 
 " He up dar. He sot out heah on de porch wid 
 me tell ten o'clock and den he went upstars like he 
 ain't got a friend in de world. He hurt to de quick ' 
 by Miss Barbary's callin' him a 'brat' and 'in'loper.' " 
 
 "She didn't call him so to his face?" stormed the 
 physician. "Damn her!" he muttered, gnashing his 
 teeth. 
 
 "No, but I tole him what she called him." 
 
132 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 ''Oh, mammy! How could you hurt him so? I 
 thought you loved him ?" 
 
 "I oughts to showed mo' sense and I felt jes' 
 like chokin' my ole se'f 'rectly arter I done it, when I 
 seed how it bruise his po' little heart." 
 
 "My poor little boy! They have hurt you no 
 more than they have hurt Uncle Pierre." 
 
 And into the house and up the stairs he sped; 
 possessed of the longing to gather his idol to his 
 heart. 
 
 Custis lay in bed, his eyes turned toward the door. 
 
 "And you have come back to be Uncle Pierre's 
 bed-fellow?" said the physician with an assumed play- 
 fulness, as he stooped and kissed the youngster. 
 
 "You don't care, do you?" said the bruised boy, 
 flinging his arm around the Doctor's neck and return- 
 ing the latter's kiss. 
 
 "Don't ask me such a question, Custis! And 
 don't look at me so, if you don't want to break my 
 heart. What's the matter, dear? Tell Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "I don't know ! Oh, Eve missed you, L^ncle 
 Pierre, as I never missed you before. I thought you 
 would never come, and when, at last, I heard you com- 
 ing up the road, I wanted to run out to meet you, an.d 
 then, when I heard you talking with mammy I could 
 hardly stay in bed, I longed so to go to you."' 
 
 "Why didn't you come then? How strangely 
 you talk, son!" 
 
 The boy dropped his head on the physician's 
 breast after the manner of a tired child. 
 
 "I know I am not a Custis. I know I have no right 
 here " 
 
 "Custis I Custis ! Don't ! Don't, son !" 
 
 "Then I am no interloper — no brat?" 
 
 "Interloper? You are all the world to Uncle 
 Pierre. Have you been with me all these years and 
 yet doubt that I love you, tliat I idolize you? Don't 
 you know I would go through hell for you? Don't 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 133 
 
 you know I would defy the devil and all his hosts 
 for you? I have never loved anybody as I love you, 
 and never could, either in this world or the world to 
 come. And knowing this, you ask Uncle Pierre such 
 a question?" 
 
 "Forgive me, Uncle Pierre. I am not myself. 
 She hurt me so, Mrs. Demarest did, by what she said. 
 I am sure I had given her no cause." 
 
 "Of course not. She did it out of wanton hellish- 
 ness ; that's all. What if you are not a Custis ? She is 
 a Custis, and I loathe her. The kinship that counts 
 with me — the only kinship, after all — is that of the 
 spirit." 
 
 And in the largeness of his love he ran his arms 
 beneath the body of the huge youngster and brought 
 him up to his breast as though he were a babe. And 
 heart to heart, they passed into one of those deep, 
 exquisite stillnesses where love has no need of speech. 
 And out of the silence the boy came healed of his 
 hurt, his face aglow with a beatific smile ; the man, 
 his wrath burned away and his countenance, like the 
 lad's, as radiant as if he had been where God was. 
 
 "You'll make no mention of what happened to- 
 day, Uncle Pierre?" said Custis, when, at length, the 
 Doctor had undressed and laid himself down beside 
 him for the night. "You will greet Mrs. Demarest 
 to-morrow as if nothing unpleasant had occurred?" 
 
 "Is this your wish, little one?" asked the physi- 
 cian. 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Pierre, and you'll grant it, for my 
 sake?" 
 
 "For your sake, yes." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "Dear me ! It's so slow down here !" sighed Mrs. 
 Crane, longing alternately for the tawdry attractions 
 of Coney Island and the board walks of Ocean Grove. 
 
 But Carroll was not at all homesick. 
 
 "I like down here, mother," he said. 
 
 "You do?" 
 
 "Sure. I could live here all the time." 
 
 "You could?" 
 
 "Sure. I like Uncle Pierre, and Custis — I loz'e 
 Custis. Don't you, Phyllis?" 
 
 "He's all right," answered the girl, but not before 
 she had cast a cautious look about her. 
 
 "Oh, she's upstairs asleep, if you are looking for 
 Aunt Bab," said Carroll. 
 
 "And the tigress is slumbering, is she?" muttered 
 Dr. Custis, who sat in the hall reading. "God grant 
 her a long and undisturbed sleep — a nap as long as 
 Rip Van Winkle's." 
 
 "Custis isn't like other big kids," continued 
 Carroll. 
 
 "What makes him unlike them, Carroll?" asked 
 the Doctor, stepping out on the porch where the chil- 
 dren were. 
 
 The boy looked a little abashed. 
 
 The physician sat down, taking Carroll on his 
 knee. He had grown quite fond of the little fellow 
 and Phyllis, chiefly because they were fond of Custis 
 — a courageous thing on their part, he thought, in the 
 
 134 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 135 
 
 face of Mrs. Demarest's violent antipathy to the youth. 
 
 "Tell me, Carroll, why you think my boy is unlike 
 other big kids?" 
 
 "Well, he doesn't think he knows it all. He 
 doesn't try any game of bluff on you ; he is the straight 
 article. He isn't fresh, like all other big kids I've seen. 
 I wish he'd come back." 
 
 "Do you miss him?" 
 
 "Sure. When do you think he and 'Relius will 
 be back, Uncle Pierre?" 
 
 "Not before seven o'clock." 
 
 Here Airs. Crane closed "Thorns and Orange 
 Blossoms," a trashy novel she had bought on the train, 
 and, rising with a yawn, went up to her room. 
 
 "I wanted to go with Custis and 'Relius," said 
 Carroll confidentially to the physician, "but mother 
 she wouldn't let me. She says I hadn't ought to ride 
 around with coons ; it isn't proper." 
 
 Dr. Custis laughed. 
 
 "And your mother doesn't love negroes?" 
 
 "Nit f She hates 'em. She says she thanks the 
 Lord she wasn't born a coon, they are so black and 
 nasty." 
 
 "What hypocrites you Republicans are!" 
 
 Out on the lawn Rutherford lay stretched in 
 Custis's hammock, a cigarette between his lips, a 
 copy of the New York Sun fluttering a little way from 
 him upon the grass. 
 
 "This is the coolest spot I've struck this summer," 
 he muttered. "It's a fine old place. I'd like to have 
 it for a summer home." 
 
 He brought himself out of his recumbent attitude 
 and gave the old oaks a look of admiration. 
 
 "It's a pity the old dragon cut up so as to get it 
 in the neck as she did from her Bourbon sire," he said, 
 resuming his reflections. "The old place, in conse- 
 quence, will go to a stranger at Doc's death, for there 
 is no doubt that kid he's so stuck on will get all he 
 
136 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 has. But I am not so sure the kid is a strang-er. He 
 may be as much of a Custis as I am, only he didn't get 
 there in the regular way. The old dragon says she'd 
 risk her hopes of heaven that the kid is Doc's. But 
 hell ! She has nothing to risk there. She has no stock 
 in celestial securities to wager." 
 
 He sprang from the hammock, and, gathering up 
 the scattered sections of the Sun, sauntered toward the 
 gate. As he passed through he encountered Cindie. 
 
 "Hello, sweetheart!" he exclaimed, sweeping his 
 hat to the ground. Then taking out a box of cigarettes, 
 he said: "Have one?" 
 
 "Go 'long, boy ! You want to pizen me ?" 
 
 "Didn't I catch you smoking last night ?" 
 
 "I ain't tryin' to git out it. I smoke when I feels 
 like it, but I smokes 'bacco, and it's a pipe whar I 
 smokes. 'Taint none of dem pizen paper things whar 
 you all de time puffin' at." 
 
 He laughed, holding the offending cigarette 
 daintily between his first and second fingers. 
 
 "One would suppose that being dark myself, I 
 would like blondes more than brunettes," he remarked. 
 "But I don't. I have always been partial to brunettes, 
 and do you know, Lucinda, sweetheart, you are the 
 most pronounced type of the dark beauty I've ever 
 struck ?" 
 
 "Look heah, boy ! Don't you talk none dat 'sinu- 
 atin' talk to me. I is a decent, wirtuous nigger, I is. 
 And I is black, black, black !" 
 
 "It's needless to emphasize that fact. I could feci 
 the darkness of you if I couldn't sec it." 
 
 "But I wants it fixed on you. / is black! I is a 
 Ciistis nigger!" 
 
 "Then how is it your grandson, the banana-col- 
 ored 'Relius, is a yellow coon ?" 
 
 "Don't you fling 'Relius's yallerness in my teef, 
 boy! I ain't had no hand in makin' him yallor. no 
 more'n Marse Hunter and Miss Margaret had in havin' 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 137 
 
 a devil for a grandson like you is. De mother of 
 'Rclius she went and took up wid one dem Perkins 
 niggers, same's yo' mother went and took up wid one 
 dem 'PubHcan scalawags whar swoop down on us arter 
 de war. Dat's how come 'Relius yaller!" 
 
 "I see. And the Custis coons are all black?" 
 
 "You knows dey is widout axing dat fool ques- 
 tion. De Custis men folks dey's all bin, as fur back as 
 you trace 'em, seemly and wirtuous white gen'men. 
 Dey ain't believin' in mixin' deir blood wid nigger 
 blood." 
 
 "What a distinction to have descended from so 
 immaculate a line of men! It is enough to give a 
 fellow the swelled head." 
 
 "You ain't no Custis, boy, and don't you 'ceive 
 yo'sef in sottin' yo'sef up as one." 
 
 Rutherford took the thrust good-naturedly. 
 
 "You are a peach, Lucinda," he said. "Pardon 
 me ; I must leave you now. But we'll meet again. Aii 
 revoir !" 
 
 And he kissed his hand and strode toward the 
 orchard. 
 
 Dr. Custis still sat on the porch with the chil- 
 dren. Phyllis stood beside him, her arm encircling his 
 neck. Carroll sat astride his leg toying with his watch 
 chain. 
 
 "I move that Miss Demarest favor us with some 
 music," proposed the physician. "Will you second the 
 motion, Mr. Crane?" 
 
 "Sure," responded the little Jerseyman. 
 
 "But I might awaken mother," demurred Phyllis. 
 
 "I hadn't thought of that," said her uncle. "We'll 
 run no risks. The music is declared off." I 
 
 "ril tell you what to do. Uncle Pierre," said Car-i 
 roll. "Read Uncle Remus to us. You needn't read 
 very loud, you know." 
 
 "Yes, that's the very thing," agreed Phyllis. 
 "Custis read some of the book to us yesterday, and I 
 
138 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 never laughed so in all my life. He can read exactly 
 like an old darky talks. Yes, read it to us, Uncle 
 Pierre — read all about Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox." 
 
 "And Brer Tarrypin and Sis Cow and Sis Turkey 
 Buzzard," chimed in Carroll. 
 
 "And old Miss Swamp Owl," said Phyllis. 
 
 The importunity of the youngsters was more than 
 the Doctor could withstand, and, procuring "Uncle 
 Remus" from the library, he returned to the porch 
 and read to his little guests of the adventures of Brer 
 Rabbit and Brer Fox until the echo of Aurelius's laugh 
 came up from the direction of the creek. 
 
 "Custis is coming! Custis is coming!" cried Car- 
 roll, clapping his hands. 
 
 And Phyllis showed as large delight. 
 
 The book was laid aside, and Brer Rabbit was 
 forced to give way to Custis Christian as the hero 
 of the hour. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Close upon the heels of Custis's return came the 
 awakening of Mrs. Demarest, The boy had hardly 
 joined the merry little group on the porch when she 
 made her appearance. 
 
 "You have had a long sleep, Barbara?" said her 
 brother. 
 
 "Sleep! Sleep!" she repeated. "I haven't slept 
 a wink ! You would think one could sleep till dooms- 
 day away off in the wilderness like this, but no ! you 
 can't get a minute's rest for a lot of loud-mouthed 
 coons. I had just got into a doze when that nigger 
 'Relius aroused me by that nerve-racking laugh of his. 
 And you had to sneak off with him, did you?" opening 
 fire on Custis. 
 
 "I went with him, but there was no sneaking about 
 it," replied the boy, dignifiedly. 
 
 "It is not his nature to sneak," cried Dr. Custis, 
 hotly. "There is not a drop of craven blood in that 
 boy's veins, I would have you to know." 
 
 "May be if you knew of his shocking behavior this 
 morning you would change your tune. I haven't told 
 him yet, young fellow," turning to Custis, "because he 
 wasn't at the house when I returned. Phyllis Dema- 
 rest, why didn't you tell your Uncle Pierre what that 
 boy did?" 
 
 "Oh, mother ! mother !" cried the girl, blushing 
 painfully. "There is nothing to tell. Custis didn't do 
 anything." 
 
 139 
 
I40 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "He didn't, eh ? He didn't ? No doubt you would 
 like to see him again in that plight? You young 
 wanton!" 
 
 "Wliat in the devil is all this about?" stormed 
 Dr. Custis. 
 
 "I'll tell you," raved his sister. 
 
 But before she started to do so, she attempted to 
 seize Phyllis, who had thrown herself, sobbing, on her 
 uncle's breast. 
 
 "Barbara!" he thundered. "For God's sake, try 
 to be decent once in your life. Touch this child if 
 you dare, and you will be responsible for the con- 
 sequences." 
 
 "She's my child !" she cried ; but she quailed, 
 nevertheless, before his gaze. 
 
 "If she were a thousand times your child, I 
 would shield her from your terrorism. You shall not 
 ill use her in this house." 
 
 "Uncle Pierre, I regret I am the cause of all this 
 trouble," said Custis. "I will tell you what happened 
 if you care to hear my version of the affair." 
 
 "It's not necessary, son, to tell me anything. I 
 know it amounts to nothing. Besides, Phyllis has 
 exonerated you." 
 
 "But I prefer to tell you, so you can judge for 
 yourself whether I did anything wrong or not." 
 
 "And I will tell you, too, if you care to hear my 
 version," screamed the infuriated woman. 
 
 "Mrs. Demarest, I believe that Mr. Christian has 
 the floor," said the Doctor, his sense of the ludicrous 
 suddenly supplanting his anger, "Proceed, Mr. 
 Christian." 
 
 "I was bathing in the creek this morning," began 
 the boy. 
 
 "Where you have always been in the habit of 
 swimming, and where I gave you your first lessons?" 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Pierre ; the same spot." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 141 
 
 "The most secluded, out-of-the-way nook in the 
 creek, I beheve?" 
 
 The boy nodded affirmatively. 
 
 "Well, I was bathing there this morning, I had 
 just sprung out of the water when I saw Mrs. Dema- 
 rest and Phyllis," 
 
 "And he didn't have a piece of clothing on ! Im- 
 agine it 1" cried Mrs. Demarest. 
 
 "Boys are not usually hampered with clothing 
 when they go swimming in a quiet country stream," 
 said Dr. Custis, "Go on, son," 
 
 But Mrs. Demarest spoke instead of Custis : 
 
 "Yes, he was stark naked — naked as he came into 
 the world." 
 
 "A superbly knit youngster, isn't he ?" 
 
 "You don't suppose I looked at him ?" 
 
 "How in the devil did you know he was nude 
 then?" 
 
 "I turned my face away at once," 
 
 "I wouldn't swear you did. It is not an article of 
 my creed to trust a prude. Prudery to me is a de- 
 spicable form of hypocrisy. It is not modesty. It is 
 anything but purity, for purity has its roots in a white 
 mind. Purity thinks no evil. Prudery feeds upon it. 
 Back of its shrieks and shrugs I can always locate a 
 mind fermenting with filth. And what did you do, 
 son," turning to Custis, in his softest voice, "at this 
 unexpected feminine invasion of your swimming re- 
 treat? Did you hasten to festoon yourself with fig 
 leaves, like your first forebears after eating of the pro- 
 hibited pippin?" 
 
 "Why, as soon as the brazen brat saw us he ran 
 like mad and hid himself among some willows," said 
 Mrs. Demarest, 
 
 "I thought he did something like that ! How pro- 
 voking, how exasperating of the boy to hide himself 
 when you wanted a better view of him !" 
 
142 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 The Doctor sank back in his chair, and laugh after 
 laugh rolled from his lips. 
 
 "That's exactly what I did, Uncle Pierre," said 
 Custis, solemnly. "What else could I have done?" 
 
 "Nothing, son, save to have stood and let her look 
 at you." 
 
 "You are a filthy-minded wretch, sir, to talk as you 
 talk, to glorify the nude as you do," screamed Mrs. 
 Demarest. 
 
 "The filth is on your mind, my sister. It is you 
 who have raised all this tempest about the nude. Are 
 you aware, Barbara, of the ridiculous spectacle you 
 have made of yourself? You come upon an innocent 
 boy swimming in a spot seldom, if ever, frequented 
 by women " 
 
 "Innocent boy !" she sneered. 
 
 "Ignorant he is not, if you mean that, but inno- 
 cent he certainly is. Seeing you and Phyllis, he seeks 
 to hide himself, like the modest lad he is. The inci- 
 dent is so trifling it is soon forgotten alike by him 
 and the other innocent youngster — ^the girl whose 
 misfortune it is to be your daughter. And now, 
 hours afterward, you come dragging the thing forth. 
 You call the boy a brazen brat, the girl a young wan- 
 ton, and for no other reason than that they are white- 
 minded, that they can't scent obscenity in everything 
 as you can. Come, children, let us go for a walk." 
 
 He rose deliberately and left the porch, the chil- 
 dren all going with him. 
 
 Cindie, who had been early on the scene, fol- 
 lowed, chuckling amusedly. Ilalf way the walk she 
 pulled Custis aside and said in a semi-whisper: 
 f "When dat vixen comes 'cross mammy's boy 
 
 swimmin' in de creek agin, you jes' stan' whar you is, 
 darling, jes' like dat start-naked statue man in dc 
 liberry and see what she gwinc to say to dat. She 
 find fau't wid yo' runnin' and hidin' yo'scf. Now 
 stand whar you is and see if dat'll suit her. 1 li ! Who 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 143 
 
 dat hollin' murder? It sound like it come fum down 
 'Relius's?" 
 
 "There's where it comes from," said the boy, with 
 pahng Hps. 
 
 He hurried to the side of Dr. Custis, who, startled, 
 as were the others, by the agonizing shrieks that cut 
 the serenity of the summer evening, stood for the mo- 
 ment as if stunned. 
 
 "What can have happened, Uncle Pierre?" 
 queried Custis. 
 
 "God only knows. Come, let us see." 
 
 And they started off on flying feet, followed by 
 old Cindie, Phyllis and Carroll. 
 
 "There were two voices calling — a man's and a 
 woman's," said Dr. Custis. "But the man's voice has 
 died down, and only the woman's is heard." 
 
 And they ran on, coming shortly to Aurelius's 
 home, down by the big gate. And there a terrible 
 tragedy confronted them. Clad only in his nether 
 garments, Rutherford Demarest lay dead in a bed of 
 marigolds and four-o'-clocks, where he had fallen with 
 his death wound. Above his body, maddened by the 
 profanation of his home, stood Aurelius Perkins, hold- 
 ing a razor, the weapon with which he had stilled the 
 heart of the boy libertine. Beside the well, cowering 
 in abject terror, stood the faithless wife, meagrely 
 garmented, her arm impotently lifted before her face 
 as if to avert death from herself. Within the house 
 wailed the year-old innocent whose mother's wanton- 
 ness had made of his father a murderer and brought 
 upon himself a weight of woe heavier than orphan- 
 hood. 
 
 "My God! What have you done, 'Relius?" cried 
 Dr. Custis, as he seized the razor from the mulatto's 
 hand and flung it as far as he could. 
 
 "Done what you or any udder white man would 
 a done," was the murderer's sullen response. 
 
 ****** jH 
 
144 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Those were solemn hours that followed the trag- 
 edy at Holly Hill. Aiirelius was arrested that night 
 and conveyed to the county jail. Early the next 
 morning Emeline returned to her mother, in Fluvanna 
 County, while the little one, thus bereft of his parents 
 in a manner more cruel than death, fell to the care of 
 his great-grandmother, faithful old Cindie. 
 
 By noon the news of the murder had penetrated 
 the remotest parts of the county, and from every di- 
 rection people came and looked on the dead boy and 
 went away with sorrowful faces. 
 
 On the afternoon train from Richmond the fu- 
 neral director arrived with the casket, and that night, 
 long after the dead youth had been laid in it, and 
 all in the house were asleep except his uncle, "Doc," 
 as he had always called him, went to him and stroked 
 his brow again and again, the physician was so grieved 
 that his nephew should have been mowed down in his 
 youth and his stain. 
 
 "Poor little fellow !" murmured Dr. Custis, loving 
 the adulterer and despising his adultery. "You are no 
 exceptional sinner, after all. You were caught and 
 slain. Retribution was swift and violent in her treat- 
 ment of you. She seemed to have singled you out 
 as an especial target — as an example, some would say. 
 That's all ; that's all. You are no worse than most of 
 your fellows. They are not caught; they are not 
 killed. That's the only difference. Tens of thousands 
 all over the land are to-night committing the sin for 
 which you had to pay the penalty of your life. Ah, 
 this perversion of the sexual instinct! And the sulfer- 
 ing, the tragedy it brings upon the race !" 
 
 A sudden sweep of wind, presaging a storm, flung 
 the blinds apart and sobbed through the room, filling 
 it with the heavy odor of magnolia — a perfume sug-' 
 gestive to the physician of death. His mother had died 
 in magnolia time. His father had fallen asleep when 
 they were in blossom. And now his nephew lay dead 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 145 
 
 as they were putting forth their urns of perfumed 
 snow. 
 
 He walked to the window and looked up at the 
 sky, the theatre of racing clouds, amid which the moon 
 was playing hide and seek. Up from the willows 
 that fringed the creek floated the cry of a whippoorwill, 
 and among the yews and hemlocks in the graveyard 
 the voice of an owl accentuated the weirdness of the 
 hour. 
 
 He drew the blinds together and went back to the 
 dead, the boy looked so lonely, somehow, in his deep, 
 narrow bed. 
 
 "It is not strange you did the things you ought not 
 to have done," he said, laying his hand on Rutherford's 
 brow, "when you were an alien to righteousness, when 
 there was no influence to steer you through the perils 
 of youth. It was all altar trappings and broadening 
 of phylacteries to the exclusion of the things that make 
 for Christlikeness." 
 
 He went to the hearth, and, picking up a trio of 
 fledgling swallows fluttering and screaming between 
 the andirons, placed the frightened birds back into the 
 nest out of which they had fallen in their descent of 
 the chimney. 
 
 "I wish we had seen more of each other," he 
 said, going back to the dead. "I might have helped 
 you to whiter thinking, cleaner living, and then this 
 sad thing would never have happened. Ah, well ! It 
 will all come right one day. Some time, in the far fu- 
 ture, whether in this world through reincarnation or in 
 other worlds — I don't know — you must finally redeem 
 yourself and pass out of your stain into the white- 
 ness of God's sons." 
 
 ******* 
 
 The case of the Commonwealth versus Aurelius 
 Perkins came up before the August term of the County 
 Court; a jury was quickly impaneled, and in spite of 
 all the evidence, showing conclusively that the accused 
 
146 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 had done only what hundreds of white men had done 
 and been justified by law and pubHc opinion for doing; 
 in spite of the exemplary character which the prisoner 
 had always borne ; in spite of the murdered youth's 
 having been the son of a despised carpet-bagger and 
 Republican ; in spite of the beloved physician's influ- 
 ence; in spite of everything — the jury returned a ver- 
 dict of murder in the first degree, and in the fossilized 
 verbiage of the law the prisoner was sentenced to be 
 hanged by the neck until he was dead. It was surely 
 an astounding verdict, and Dr. Custis, though slow to 
 misjudge his fellow-men, could not help believing that 
 political hate had had most, if not all, to do with the 
 atrocious miscarriage of justice. 
 
 "Justice shall be done the boy if he did slay my 
 nephew," he declared. "I'll appeal to the Supreme 
 Court if I have to mortgage Holly Hill. A man sen- 
 tenced to death for slaying the destroyer of his home 
 and his happiness ! Preposterous! Outrageous!" 
 
 His political enemies industriously gave his words 
 wide circulation, to show that he cared more for the 
 "nigger" murderer of his nephew than he had cared 
 for the poor boy so cruelly murdered. 
 
 "But maybe, after all, the damned yaller coon is 
 closer to him than we've thought," suggested a foul- 
 minded Republican to a group of Republicans and 
 Democrats. And one of the crowd — a Democrat — 
 slapped the reptile on the back, and the others winked 
 or smiled their approval. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A week later the Populists held a rally on the 
 courthouse green. 
 
 Dr. Custis thought it the part of dignity to ignore 
 the whole brood of slanders against him ; but, after 
 a conference with his political confederates, he agreed 
 to take up the charges and dispose of them briefly 
 before entering upon a discussion of the issues of the 
 campaign. 
 
 So, facing his audience, composed of men of all 
 parties, he began, after saluting them as "friends and 
 fellow-citizens" : 
 
 "And they say I am a chronic sorehead, a dis- 
 gruntled ofifice-seeker ; that I left the Democratic party 
 because Grover overlooked me in the distribution of 
 political pie. My friends, you know that's an atrocious 
 lie. I never in all my life sought an office of any kind, 
 and you who know me — and most of you do — know 
 I am telling the truth. But just here it might be 
 interesting if my old friend, Colonel Page, tlie es- 
 teemed chairman of the County Democracy, would 
 tell us the name of the gentleman who called on one 
 Pierre Custis two years ago, and two years before that, 
 and each time urged the said Pierre Custis to allow 
 his name to go before the County Democratic Conven- 
 tion as a candidate for the General Assembly, assuring 
 him of a unanimous nomination. The Colonel will 
 not tell us. Ah, well! He is a modest man, and is 
 
 '47 
 
148 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 naturally embarrassed by the sight of so many people. 
 So we'll generously excuse him," 
 
 (Prolonged laughter and cheering.) 
 
 "My Democratic friends say I am a Republican 
 masquerading as a Populist ; that with my fellow- 
 Populists I am secretly working to hand Virginia over 
 to Mahone and the Republican party. ]\Iy friends — • 
 many of you my friends from childhood up — do you, 
 can you believe I could have sunk so low as to be 
 associated in any way with William Mahone or the Re- 
 publican party?" 
 
 "No ! No ! No !" was the almost unanimous re- 
 sponse, many Democrats joining in. 
 
 'T thank you, friends ; I thank you very much," 
 returned the speaker, visibly moved. 
 
 "My religion, or, rather, my want of it," he went 
 on, after a minute or so, "is as offensive, it seems, to 
 many good people as are my political opinions. They 
 say I don't believe in God, because I hold to a sweeter, 
 larger conception of God than the old creeds have 
 painted Plim. They say, too, I don't believe in heaven 
 and hell, because I reject the puerile, sensuous pictures 
 of them which have come to us from barbaric ages. 
 They say also — and they lay the greatest stress on 
 this — that I don't believe in Jesus Christ ; that I 
 repudiate Christianity, that I am an atheist. And why ? 
 Simply because I am not coward and sneak enough to 
 make Jesus Christ a packhorse for all my selfishness. 
 There is no man on the globe who loves the name or 
 the personality of Jesus more than I. who believes more 
 thoroughly in all that He taught. There is a lot of cant 
 preached and sung and written about believing in 
 Jesus ; but the only way to believe in Him is to do 
 His will, or the will of Him that sent Him, as He 
 preferred to put the matter ; to love your fellows along 
 with your God ; to treat them precisely as you would 
 have them treat you. In no other way can you show 
 your love for God than by loving your brothers. To 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 149 
 
 do the clean thing, the just thing, the loving thing, 
 and to be doing them all the time^-this is believing in 
 Jesus! And if you are not doing it, you are a hypo- 
 crite and a fraud. I mean it, every word. My friends, 
 if men had really believed in Jesus Christ, believed 
 what He said and lived up to that belief, there would 
 be nobody going around consigning this man or that 
 to endless flames because he didn't believe in heaven 
 and hell ; for the fires of hell would centuries ago have 
 died down to ashes and heaven would be all around 
 us, an established fact as the sunlight." 
 
 'How about what you told Dr. Jones?" shouted a 
 fellow. 
 
 "Yes," cried another. "You told him you were a 
 Unitarian." 
 
 "And what's that but an infidel?" demanded the 
 first inquisitor. 
 
 "Yes, it appears that my esteemed brother-phy- 
 sician, in his partisan zeal, has been quite actively em- 
 ployed for a fortnight in circulating a remark I made 
 to him a year or so ago. I said, in discussing religion 
 with him, that I had thought myself out of the faith 
 of my fathers, that I was a Unitarian if anything. 
 And what of it if I am a Unitarian? Whose affair is 
 it but mine ? Haven't I the right to my belief under the 
 American Constitution ? It seems to me that the ques- 
 tion of freedom of conscience in matters theological 
 was settled in this country more than a hundred years 
 ago. My friends, you are all familiar with the name 
 of Thomas Jefferson, the greatest man that Virginia 
 ever produced ?" 
 
 "Jefferson is all right, he is!" shouted some one. 
 
 Immediately followed three cheers for the Sage of 
 Monticello. 
 
 "Yes," said Dr. Custis. "Jefferson zvas all right — 
 a century ago. He was the dangerous man, the radical, 
 the revolutionist of his day. For that reason his name 
 
150 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 is dear to me. Now, if I mistake not, the Democrats 
 claim this great man as the founder of their party ?" 
 
 "That's what we do !" cried a proud disciple. 
 
 "And you think Jefferson was the embodiment of 
 all political wisdom ?" 
 
 "That's what he was !" 
 
 "You believe he was inspired to speak for all time 
 to come? That coming statesmen and economists can 
 add nothing to what he has said ?" 
 
 "That's the size of it 1" 
 
 And the name of Jefferson was again cheered. 
 
 "Well, my friends, where did this wise man, whom 
 you worship as a political deity, stand theologically? 
 The Baptists cannot claim him, though he was in 
 hearty accord with one glorious doctrine for which 
 they have always stood — the separation of Church and 
 State. He was not a Wesleyan. He was no Church- 
 man, and Calvinism he loathed. Shall I break the 
 truth to you ? Well, Tom was in religion exactly what 
 you would damn me for being — a Unitarian. You 
 didn't know that, eh? And he was as proud of his 
 Unitarianism as he was of his Democracy. So en- 
 thusiastic a Unitarian v/as he that he went to the 
 fanatical length of wishing that every young man in 
 America might die a Unitarian. Now, friends, if a 
 hundred years ago, when men were supposed to be 
 much more narrow and intolerant in matters of the- 
 ology than they are to-day, this man Thomas Jeffer- 
 son, with his Unitarian views, could be elected Presi- 
 dent of the United States, is it possible that I could 
 not be elected to the Virginia Senate in this the closing 
 decade of the nineteenth century because of my Uni- 
 tarianism ?" 
 
 "Give 'em hell. Doc !" shouted a well-known 
 farmer, who had been astride the fence, but had just 
 tumbled over into the Populist yard. 
 
 "Yes, soak it into 'em, old man !" yelled a young 
 fellow, who was looking forward to casting his virgin 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 151 
 
 vote for Cocke and Custis as the event of his Hfe. "No 
 flies on you — not an insect visible !" 
 
 "Say, how — 'bout — your — son — 'ReHus?" jerked 
 out a Democratic hoodlum, afflicted with a trouble- 
 some case of hiccoughs. 
 
 -"My son 'Relius?" repeated the Doctor, in mock 
 wonderment, which caused much merriment. "Oh," he 
 added, smiling, "I believe it has been discovered within 
 the past week that I am responsible for this unfor- 
 tunate fellow's existence ; in other words, I am 'Relius's 
 pa. Mr. Hardie, you are an old landmark. Will you 
 kindly tell me, if you can, the date of my arrival on 
 this globe of greed ?" 
 
 "The year before the big snow of 1857," promptly 
 replied the merchant, who, by the way, had become 
 an ardent Populist. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Hardie. Now, Captain Waller, 
 you have the distinction of possessing the acutest 
 memory of any man in the county, of being an au- 
 thority on all matters genealogical. Will you tell me 
 the year, the month, the day of my advent on this 
 sphere of sin ?" 
 
 "You were born November 2 (All Souls' Day), 
 1856." 
 
 "Thank you, Captain. Now, Major Warwick, 
 you are a Democrat, I know, but I believe you would 
 tell the truth as soon as any Populist would. When 
 was it that I, your degenerate kinsman, first began to 
 kick against things terrestrial?" 
 
 "In November, 1856." 
 
 "Thank you, Alajor. Now, friends, these three 
 gentlemen — gentlemen whose veracity no man would 
 dare question unless he wanted to die — are all agreed 
 that my voice was not heard in the land earlier than 
 the year 1856. And the Family Bible at Holly Hill 
 tells the same story. Now, let us figure the thing out: 
 Pierre Custis, born November 2, 1856. Aurelius Per- 
 
152 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 kins, born December 20, 1865. Subtract 1856 from 
 1865 and what is the remainder?" 
 
 "Nine! Nine! Nine !" came a chorus of voices. 
 
 "That's right, boys ! Go up head, all of you ! You 
 are born mathematicians. So I was a kid of nine, run- 
 ning around in knee trousers when my son Aurelius 
 was born? Gentlemen, defeat me if you will, vote 
 against me, every one of you — but don't, I implore you, 
 let this thing get out of the county. If you do, every 
 other woman in the United States will be writing for 
 my photograph or autograph. Newspapers will be 
 sending reporters to Holly Hill to write me up and 
 to learn how it happened. Circuses and freak mu- 
 seums will be tumbling over each other in their frantic 
 efforts to get me to exhibit myself as the marvel of 
 the age — the boy who was able to reproduce his species 
 before he was nine years of age." 
 
 The speaker had brought his audience — Populists, 
 Democrats, and even Republicans — to the best humor 
 possible. With three or four exceptions, every man's 
 mouth was stretched in laughter, and it was five min- 
 utes at least that the physician stood waiting for the 
 merriment to subside. 
 
 "Well, how 'bout the kid Custis Christian?" said 
 one of the exceptions referred to, as the physician at 
 length started to speak again. "You are old enough 
 to be his father, ain't you ?" 
 
 "Yes, and so are millions of other men, for that 
 matter," retorted the Doctor. 
 
 The crowd at once manifested its disaj^proval of 
 the questioner and his question by a storm of hisses. 
 
 "Shame!" "Shame!" "Put him out!" "Put him 
 out!" came from throat after throat, Democratic as 
 well as Populistic. 
 
 "My friends," said Dr. Custis, "you and a few of 
 your ilk can build no scandal out of my love for that 
 boy. If, in the beginning, the nasty thought you are 
 nursing lacked the vitality to live beyond the lips of 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 153 
 
 two or three petticoated scandal-sowers, political 
 venom cannot breathe life into it at this late day. The 
 decent sentiment of the community, irrespective of 
 party affiliations, forbids it." 
 
 "That's right, Doctor!" "You are the stuff!" 
 "We'll stand by you!" "There are no flies on Pierre 
 Custis !" "Hurrah for Dr. Custis!" were some of the 
 hearty, if inelegant, expressions of confidence and 
 affection that came from the men around him. 
 
 "Now, my friends, if you have no more sons 
 charged against me, I will proceed to discuss the issues 
 of the campaign which brought us out to-day," said 
 the speaker, eager to get down to serious work. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 It was Christmas Eve at last — the day to which 
 she had been looking forward so eagerly ever since 
 she left Richmond in May — and in all Muscogee 
 County, Georgia, no woman was so happy as was 
 Dorothy Nelson. Dr. Custis, on parting with her and 
 Paul, had promised that he and Custis would visit 
 them at Yuletide, and they were coming at last, they 
 would soon be with her — this best-beloved friend of 
 hers and the boy whom she had given him thirteen 
 years ago to-night. 
 
 Paul had gone to Columbus to meet them. She 
 had wanted to go with him, but she was so frail of late, 
 she succumbed so quickly to exhaustion, that Paul had 
 vetoed her accompanying him, lest the fatigue of the 
 journey might put her in bed for the holidays. 
 
 She unfolded for at least the twentieth time a 
 letter she had received the day before from Custis, 
 and, kissing it, as she had kissed it every time she 
 had read it, went through its contents again : 
 
 My Dearest Mrs. Nelson — I wrote you a long 
 letter last week, but it gave you nothing definite as 
 to our trip. So I write now to say that Uncle Pierre 
 and I shall certainly be with you and Mr. Nelson 
 Christmas. We shall go to Richmond to-morrow, and 
 there take a sleeper over the Southern Railway for 
 Columbus. 
 
 Have you wired Santa Claus of the additional 
 stocking to be filled? 
 
 154 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 155 
 
 Uncle Pierre and I have just received a glorious 
 Christmas gift. The Supreme Court of Virginia has 
 granted our poor 'Relius a new trial. 
 
 Kiss my little Georgia sweetheart for me. And 
 the little seraph will be a year old Christmas — and I 
 shall be fifteen ? We ought to be very good children — 
 Virginia and I — to have been born on the anniversary 
 of the Master's birth. Don't you think so ? 
 
 Lots of love to Mr. Nelson. 
 
 Lovingly your boy, 
 
 CUSTIS. 
 
 Then, in Dr. Custis's handwriting, followed : 
 
 P. S. — If Santa Claus could see the stocking re- 
 ferred to and the astounding combination of flesh and 
 muscle that gives it shape, I am sure he would think 
 it downright imposition to ask him to fill it. 
 
 Uncle Pierre. 
 
 "You droll darling!" exclaimed Dorothy. "No 
 wonder my child is the divine boy he is, brought up 
 as he has been by a heavenly old thing like you. Aunt 
 Easter, is Virginia still asleep?" as that licorice- 
 skinned worthy, scarletly turbaned, entered the room. 
 
 "Yes, marm ; she sleep. I 'clar Miss Do'thy, you 
 jes' looks sweet 'nough to eat. Is dat de blue frock 
 whar you buyed de las' time you went to town ?" 
 
 "Yes, and I got this white waist at the same time. 
 Isn't it pretty ? My little sweetheart dotes on blue, and 
 white he adores. And I am wearing these violets, too, 
 because of his coming. Violets are his delight, and so, 
 too, are roses. I have just put a bunch of each in his 
 room. Well, Lick, what is it?" as a little pickaninny, 
 with legs which no course of physical culture could 
 ever have kneaded into things of beauty, rushed into 
 the room, dragging a stalk of sugar cane which he 
 had been greedily sucking prior to his agitation. 
 
 "Dey comin'. Miss Do'thy ! Dey comin' 1" he 
 cried, with enlarged eyes. 
 
 "What? Already?" 
 
156 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 And she darted toward tlie front porch. A mo- 
 ment later the carriage rolled in sight, and Dorothy 
 gave a cry of joy as the fresh, glad laugh of her boy 
 came to her ears. 
 
 "Well, darling," said Paul, as he stepped out of 
 the carriage. "They have condescended to visit us 
 lowly Georgians at last, have these tw^o F. F. V.'s." 
 
 Dr. Custis followed Nelson to the ground, and 
 after him sprang Custis, laden with mistletoe and pal- 
 metto he had gathered on the way. 
 
 "You angel!" cried Dorothy, as the Doctor 
 greeted her, kissing her brow. 
 
 "What kind of angel, little girl?" he asked. "Ac- 
 cording to Milton, there are angels that have fallen." 
 
 "But you are not of that kind." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 And then he stepped aside for Custis. 
 
 Mother and son looked into each other's eyes, 
 and then, without a word, glided into each other's 
 arms. And the men, as on a like occasion, in Rich- 
 mond, walked ahead with overflowing eyes, under- 
 standing it all. 
 
 Virginia had awakened and was in as amial^le 
 humor as one could have desired. Custis took her up 
 in his arms after the Doctor had had that honor, and 
 presently, unobserved, he slipped on her finger a ring 
 he had bought for her in Richmond. But, with the 
 instinct of her sex, she was averse to allowing any 
 article of adornment to go unobserved, and, cooing 
 and laughing as if it were all plain to her, she at once 
 held up her little hand before her mother, then be- 
 fore her father, and so on until everybody in the 
 room, down to Lick, with his comically crooked legs, 
 had seen and admired the love token from her brother. 
 
 "Now, Doctor, come with me and Fll show you to 
 your room," said Nelson, at length, picking up his 
 guest's valise. "Custis, son," laying his hand on the 
 boy's arm, "Mrs. Nelson will see you to your room." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 157 
 
 "Yes, darling-. Annt Easter, take Virginia, please." 
 
 The old woman took the baby from the youth's 
 arms, but not without wails of protest from the wilful 
 little maiden. The boy gave her several kisses, which 
 reduced her yells to sobs, and then picked up his 
 valise to follow his mother. 
 
 "Dorothy has fitted up a room for your especial 
 use, my son," said Nelson, "I have christened it 
 'Our Boy's Room.' It is next to ours, opening into it. 
 She would have it nowhere else. And she has turned 
 it into a regular flower garden. But, Doctor, you 
 needn't look so hurt. She hasn't slighted you. That 
 would be against her religion. You have your violets, 
 roses, etc., as well as the youngster. I am the one 
 slighted — the one who gets left when the bouquets are 
 going around. But I am the husband ; that explains it." 
 
 "But, dear," returned his wife, with a laugh as 
 sweet as a girl's, "you are like the poor of whom the 
 Master spoke. You I have always with me," 
 
 And then the merry little party started upstairs. 
 Nelson and Dr. Custis giving the right of precedence 
 to Mrs. Nelson and Custis. 
 
 The room into which she ushered the boy lacked 
 nothing that refined mother-love could suggest so far 
 as the means back of it justified, 
 
 "This room we have dedicated to you, love," she 
 said. "It is yours so long as we have a home, and our 
 home is yours — your other home — so long as we can 
 keep it out of the clutches of the money-lender." 
 
 The boy raised his face from the violets and looked 
 at her with that love light in his blue eyes, that love 
 smile about his red lips, which always foretold an 
 embrace from the youngster for the one he loved. 
 And the next second his arm was about his mother's 
 neck. ^ 
 
 "I do love you so, Mrs. Nelson — love you just — 
 just as I imagine a boy loves his mother' You don't 
 mind my saying this, do you ? I know you are not old 
 
158 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 enough to be the mother of a big, overgrown kid like 
 I am. But still you don't care if I love you in that 
 way? It's all right, isn't it?" 
 
 She drew his face down to hers, struggling the 
 while for speech. At last, succeeding, she said : 
 
 *T would not have you unsay those words for all 
 the world!" 
 
 "Why do we love each other so, I wonder?" he 
 asked, feeling suddenly very strange about it. 
 
 How she longed to cry out that she was his 
 mother, to abandon herself to the love that was con- 
 suming her ! But, ah ! that sin of her youth which had 
 stained his birth. She could never tell him of that. 
 She could never look into his face again if he knew 
 what she had been. 
 
 It w^as far into the night. Santa Claus had come 
 and gone, leaving three stockings fat unto bursting and 
 a cedar tree gay with his gifts. 
 
 All in the house were asleep save Dorothy, who 
 sat nursing Virginia. But her thoughts were not of 
 the babe at her breast. They were of the youth asleep 
 in the adjoining room — her first born, who had come 
 to her fifteen years ago to-night in the home of dear 
 old Otto and Gretchen Heinlein. \Micre was Frau 
 Heinlein this Christmas morning? Living or dead, she 
 was safe, she was God's. Souls so kind, so tender, by 
 the law of attraction, found their way to God. They 
 could never be lost ; it was impossible. 
 
 Her hunger satisfied, \'irginia fell asleep. Dorothy 
 sat looking at her, but thinking of Custis. At last she 
 rose and tenderly laid the little one into her crib. 
 Then, overpowered by a longing to look upon her boy 
 as he slei)t, to be as near to him as possible, she opened 
 the door, and, entering his room, glided noiselessly 
 to where he lay. He stirred at her apj)roach. sighing 
 in his sleep, and turned over on his back, dropping 
 from his fingers a white rose, half open, that he had 
 
"My own little mother! 
 
 You don't know how your boy loves you. 
 Page 161. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 159 
 
 carried to bed with him and fallen asleep jealously 
 clutching-. She picked up the flower and caressed it 
 with her lips. Then she looked on the beautiful face 
 of the boy, etherialized by the moon's silver in which 
 he lay, and it was given her to behold in the rose- 
 bud a symbol of the white young life unfolding so 
 fragrantly into manhood. 
 
 She recalled, as she looked upon him, a touching 
 story she had once read of St. Origen, the sweetest 
 and greatest of all the Christian Fathers, and for that 
 reason anathematized by the Church, Catholic and 
 Evangelical alike. It was to the effect that when 
 Origen was a youth of fifteen, lovely and white of soul 
 as her own boy, his father would steal to him as he 
 lay asleep, and, baring his breast, kiss it because 
 therein was the temple of the Holy Ghost. The story 
 appealed peculiarly to her at this moment, and, moved 
 by the impulse that had moved Origen's father, she un- 
 covered the lad's breast and kissed him above the 
 heart; then her lips hungrily sought his, and in the 
 passion of her mother-love, so long repressed, she 
 kissed him again and again, until, half-awakened, he 
 sprang up in bed. 
 
 Instantly she fled from him, concealing herself in 
 the shadow. 
 
 "1 must have dreamed it," he mused, aloud. "Of 
 course, I did. And yet it was all so real. I dreamed 
 that my mother came to me and kissed me and kissed 
 me as if she couldn't kiss me enough. And the strange 
 part of it is she was Mrs. Nelson. Yes, it seemed 
 in my dream as if they were one." 
 
 "And they are one ! They are one, my darling !" 
 
 And Dorothy flung herself on Custis's breast and 
 ran her arms up around his neck in a wild, passion- 
 ate clasp. 
 
 Wonderingly, reverently, he looked upon her, 
 stroking her hair the while. Then, as it all grew clear 
 to him, he fell to kissing her with a passion that almost 
 
ir.o REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 equaled her own, and she was content to lie passive 
 in his arms, murmuring at intervals : "Mother's boy ! 
 Mother's darling !" 
 
 "And you are my mother, really?" he said, finding 
 his voice at last. "I know now why I have always 
 loved you." 
 
 "Yes, yes. Oh, I tried to keep it from you, but I 
 couldn't. To-night — the anniversary of your birth- 
 night — and your coming to see me have proved my 
 undoing. All day, all night, I could think of little 
 else but the night you came to me." 
 
 "Tell me all about it, mother," he said, uttering 
 the last word with a hushed tenderness that thrilled 
 every fibre of her soul. 
 
 "How can I ? Oh, my darling ! 'My darling ! 
 
 There is a stain on your mother — a dark, deep stain !" 
 
 "A stain — a dark, deep stain?" he repeated, softly. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, trembling. "I went — wrong — 
 
 when — I was a girl." 
 
 And she stopped, overwhelmed by the humiliating 
 confession. 
 
 "Yes, mother?" he said, oh, so tenderly. And 
 then he fell to patting her cheek while she pulled her- 
 self together for further utterance. 
 
 "I went wrong — for — love — of — your — father," 
 she said, haltingly. "And you are here, darling, be- 
 cause of it." 
 
 And, palsied with shame, unable to look up, she 
 dropped her face on his breast. But he would not 
 have it so, and he lovingly lifted it and kissed the poor 
 eyes that could not look into his — kissed them until 
 the bruise in them was gone and they were forced by 
 the warmth of his love to meet his. 
 
 "It is all right, little mother," and she felt his 
 tears on her hand. "What if there zvas a stain on you 
 years and years ago? Love put it there, after all, and 
 love has long since wiped it away. If you went wrong, 
 vou have come rifrht asfain. And who it is that doesn't 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH i6i 
 
 go wrong sometimes — if not in one way, in another? 
 Now, tell me all about it. Don't tremble so. It hurts 
 me — hurts down to the quick of me. My own little 
 mother! You don't know how your boy loves you. 
 Go on now and tell me all you have endured for my 
 sake, and in return I will try my best from this night 
 on to make you rejoice that you brought me into 
 the world." 
 
 "There has never been a moment since you were 
 born that I have not rejoiced because of that," she 
 returned, ineffably happy because of the assurances 
 he had given her so abundantly of his love. 
 
 And, seeing that he was intent upon listening to 
 her story, she told him all save the name of his father, 
 and he lay listening, his heart torn and bleeding be- 
 cause of all she had suffered for him. Several times 
 he cried out for indignation, but oftener for pain, and 
 during the whole of it he was in tears. 
 
 "Who is this man that wrought so much sorrow, 
 mother — this devil beside whom Uncle Pierre and Mr. 
 Nelson stand out like gods?" he asked when she 
 was done. 
 
 "I would prefer not to tell you, love ; not now, at 
 any rate." 
 
 "Do you fear I would harm him, mother? Never! 
 I have been taught in a diviner school of ethics than 
 that which demands an eye for an eye and a tooth for 
 a tooth. That may be the savage way, the Mosaic 
 way, even the Christian way, but it is not the Christ 
 way. A wrong can never be wiped out by blood. A 
 crime for a crime makes two crimes, the same as one 
 and one make two, blackening the injured as well as 
 the injurer. We had a sad illustration of this in the 
 tragedy at Holly Hill last summer. Poor 'Relius, mad- 
 dened by his wrongs, slew Rutherford, and there were 
 two crimes, and should he be hanged eventually," and 
 the boy shuddered, "the State, too, will be guilty of a 
 crime, and three crimes will have been committed." 
 
i62 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Motlier's Clirist boy !" cried Dorothy. "I love to 
 hear you reason in that cUvine way. You have been an 
 apt pupil of Pierre Custis. I made no mistake in giv- 
 ing you to him. Darhng, do you know that for months 
 before you were born — indeed, from the moment that 
 Dr. Custis disclosed to me his grandeur of soul — you 
 and he filled all my thoughts? I longed for you to 
 be a boy and to grow up a man like him. It mastered 
 me, it consumed me, did this longing, enabling me to 
 bear everything as I did. I sunk myself absolutely in 
 you and in what I desired you to be — another Pierre 
 Custis. Your father, whom a fev/ months before I had 
 loved so insanely, I had ceased even to think of. He 
 had becom.e to me as a dream tliat dies with the night." 
 
 "That man ! That man !" shuddered the boy. "Oh, 
 that Uncle Pierre were my father ! My Uncle Pierre ! 
 How can I love him enough?" 
 
 "You cannot, darling! He is a god among men, 
 Pierre Custis is ! And Paul Nelson is a man cast in the 
 same pattern. If I had not already given you to Dr. 
 Custis when I became his wife, he would have been 
 the tenderest of fathers to you. He loves you, he has 
 always loved you, as if you were liis own son." 
 
 "I believe it, motlier, and I love him and I .^hall 
 always love him, for what he has been to you." 
 
 "And will you always love our little \'irginia — be 
 as a brother to her, as indeed you are ?" 
 
 "Always, mother. Should she ever be left alone in 
 the world, I will gladly take care of her and protect 
 her with my life if need be. Can I promise more? 
 But why do you talk so strangely, mother? It makes 
 me sad, somehow." 
 
 "Forgive me, love. I would have you always 
 happy. I have had sadness enough for both of us. 
 Why, how late it is ! It is striking three o'clock. It's 
 a shame to keep vou awake like this. Good-nighty 
 darling!" 
 
 "Good-night, mother dearest !" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 163 
 
 Custis opened his eyes on Christmas morning in a 
 deluge of gold. 
 
 Dr. Custis stood beside his bed, his hand on his. 
 
 "Goodness! I have overslept myself!" exclaimed 
 the lad, springing up in bed, and pulling the physician's 
 face down to his for his morning kiss. 
 
 "It is ten o'clock," replied the physician. "But 
 it is just as well as not that you have slept. Custis, I 
 have sad news for you: Mrs. Nelson has gone 
 from us." 
 
 "Gone ? Dead, do you mean ?" 
 
 "Yes ; Paul, on awakening, found her dead by 
 his side." 
 
 Custis fell back into bed, plunging his face into 
 the pillow. 
 
 The Doctor laid his hand on his head, and after a 
 while the boy, soothed by the caress, reached forth and 
 drew the big, loving hand into his. 
 
 "Was she so much to you, then, son?" asked the 
 physician, when the lad at length lifted his face, drawn 
 with grief, from the pillow. 
 
 "Wasn't she my mother? Could she have been 
 more ?" 
 
 "How — how — why, who told you she was ?"■ 
 
 "She told me. She came to me in the night, when 
 you were all asleep, and kissed me and kissed me till 
 I awoke." 
 
 "You vvere dreaming, son, weren't you?" 
 
 "I thought so at first. Uncle Pierre, but I wasn't. 
 She told me the whole sad story, all about herself, all 
 about myself, and how like God you had acted to- 
 ward her." 
 
 "She could bear the restraint of it no longer, poor 
 soul ! The wonder is she was able to bear it so long, 
 loving you as she did. Ell go back to Paul now. The 
 poor boy is utterly crushed, he loved your mother so. 
 
i64 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Get up, son, and slip into your clothes as soon as you 
 can. Paul inquired for you a while ago." 
 
 And when Custis was dressed he went and looked 
 on the face of his mother as she lay garmented for the 
 grave. Paul Nelson came and stood with his arm 
 around his neck. After a while they walked to w'here 
 Dr. Custis w^as and sat down, the desolate husband 
 drawing the motherless boy down on his knee. They 
 were one in the death of Dorothy. 
 
 1 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 September was mellowing away, but the Rich- 
 mond folk were drinking limeade and coca-cola as 
 thirstily as if it were the heart of summer, the heat 
 upon the city was so intense. 
 
 The college campus that afternoon was alive with 
 students, fresh and sun-browned from their summer's 
 rest. Some were playing ball, others looking on, and 
 still others lounging about under the trees, interested 
 only in the problem of keeping cool. 
 
 "Say, boys," drawled an excessively-haired sopho- 
 more, pulling up his trousers so as to show more of his 
 startling stockings, "did you know we had with us 
 this session a chappie from New York — one of the 
 Four Hundred?" 
 
 The handsome, well-dressed freshman at whom 
 this arrow was aimed flushed sensitively, and, after a 
 moment, moved away. The youth was Pelham. Hunt- 
 ington, now in his eighteenth year. He had come all 
 the way from New York to begin his college career in 
 the land of his fathers, but from no ancestral senti- 
 ment whatever. He had read in a Richmond paper 
 of the honors won by Pierre Custis Christian of Gooch- 
 land County, Virginia, the session before, and the 
 longing to be with Custis — this, and this alone — had 
 brought him to Richmond College. But they would 
 be together only one session. This was Custis's last 
 year. He was a senior ; Pelham a freshman. Still a 
 year was not so short, after all. Lifelong friendships, 
 
 165 
 
i66 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 everlasting loves, had been formed in far briefer 
 periods. He had seen Custis twice, but the latter had 
 failed to recognize him either time, and in the shyness 
 born of his love for Custis, young Huntington could 
 not for the life of him go to him and make himself 
 known. And so the poor boy was very desolate as he 
 strolled from one part of the campus to the other 
 hungrily watching for a sight of the beloved form. 
 
 As he walked off, hurt by the remark intended for 
 his ear, he wished he had not come to Richmond Col- 
 lege, that he had gone to Yale as his father had desired 
 him to do. How foolish of him to love, to idealize one 
 whom he had seen only once in his life! Of course, 
 Custis had long ago forgotten that trivial incident, as 
 every one else would have done but a sentimentalist 
 like himself. 
 
 There was a quick, agile step behind him — the 
 step of one who knew how to walk and reaped delight 
 in the doing of it. 
 
 "Did you lose your handkerchief, comrade?" said 
 a voice musically masculine, and a hand was laid lightly 
 on Pelham's shoulder. 
 
 The latter, thrilled, turned quickly, facing the 
 speaker. It was Custis, handsome and virile as men 
 are made. 
 
 "Thank you very much," said Pelham, blushing. 
 
 "You are welcome, I am sure." 
 
 And with a smile, but such as he might have given 
 any stranger, Custis passed on. 
 
 "Say, Cus, where are you off to?" shouted a 
 fellow-student on the edge of the crowd witnessing 
 the game of ball. 
 
 "For a tramp where the river winds and perhaps 
 a plunge. It is hot enough." 
 
 "Believe I'll go with you." 
 
 "Come on, then." 
 
 But two instead of one bounded past Pelham, and 
 the three started off. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 167 
 
 And poor Pelham, his heart crying out after Cus- 
 tis, followed the trio, keeping at an unobtrusive dis- 
 tance. Along fashionable streets and streets that were 
 not fashionable, through obscure lanes, across fields, 
 down hills and up hills, over fern-fringed streams and 
 through cool, sweet woods, they moved with the elas- 
 ticity of youth, and Pelham as energetically, until they 
 came to the shore of the river, where elm and willow 
 and sweetgum grew together in loving brotherliness, 
 shadowing sand and wave. 
 
 The water was turbulent with kids, most of whom 
 knew Custis because of his frequent visits to the river 
 in warm weather. 
 
 "Hello, Mr. Christian!" came from several throats 
 at once. 
 
 "Hello, Bruiser !" he shouted back, beginning with 
 the roughest diamond in the collection. "Hello, Jack! 
 Hello, Lee!" 
 
 And he stood watching their antics, his teeth 
 gleaming in a smile that bespoke thorough sympathy 
 with what was going on. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I know not your intentions," he said, 
 turning to his companions. "But I am going to join 
 those little sons of men. I have been panting all day 
 to hug the James." 
 
 And he stepped behind a waist-high willow and 
 proceeded to get out of his garments to the tune of 
 "Suwanee River," while his fellow-seniors fell also to 
 unclothing themselves to the same tune. Stripped first, 
 they plunged into the water. Presently Custis came 
 forth, pausing beside Pelham, 
 
 "Will 3'ou join us ?" he said, cordially. 
 
 Pelham declined, and Custis turned and skipped 
 to the water's edge. 
 
 "Here comes the Old Dominion steamer!" shouted 
 Bruiser, as the athletic pride of Richmond College 
 sprang into the river, causing commotion alike among 
 the waves and the kids, the latter standing up and 
 
i68 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 looking at him in big-eyed, open-mouthed admiration, 
 as he reappeared on the crest of a huge wave, 
 
 "Bruiser, I thought you were my friend," he said, 
 in a voice that evidently disturbed Bruiser. 
 
 "So I am." 
 
 "It doesn't look that way, Bruiser. Didn't you 
 liken me to an Old Dominion steamer ?" 
 
 "I jes' meant you churned the river all up when 
 you jumped in, you so big and strong." 
 
 "You mean I am a Jumbo?" 
 
 "No, suh, I don't; no, suh." 
 
 And Bruiser came closer to Custis, anxious to 
 atone for his unwitting offense. And the other kids, 
 too, flocked about him, to the last one of them. They 
 had all learned to love him, this big-limbed, big- 
 hearted, democratic boy, so in love with his fellows. 
 
 Pelham's loneliness went from him in the general 
 merriment, and presently he found himself laughing 
 because Custis and the kids were laughing. 
 
 "My Custis ! My hero !" he exclaimed to himself. 
 "Tender and sweet-hearted as of old. Only you have 
 forgotten poor little Pelham, who has loved you all 
 these years." 
 
 .t Suddenly there was a sharp cry from an eight- 
 year-old near the shore, and he went, limping, out 
 of the water. 
 
 "What's the matter, my boy?" asked Pelham. 
 
 "I done cut my foot with a piece of glass." 
 
 Here Custis sprang out of the river, gathered the 
 child up in his arms, and, dropping on the sand, laid 
 the little one across his legs and examined his foot, 
 which was bleeding profusely. 
 
 "It is a bad cut, but nothing serious, Pete. I'll 
 bind it up for you so as to keep the dirt out. Would 
 you kindly get my handkerchief for me?" addressing 
 Pelham. 'You'll find it in the pocket of my shirt, over 
 there behind that little willow." 
 
 "Take mine." said Pelham, who would have 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 169 
 
 offered his shirt as gladly in his eagerness to serve his 
 hero. 
 
 But Custis demurred. 
 
 "Weren't you going to use yours?" demanded 
 Pelham, in a hurt voice. "Here, take it!" and he 
 gently threw the piece of linen into Custis's hand. 
 
 "All right, if you insist. Thank you." 
 
 Custis washed the boy's foot thoroughly, and, 
 folding the handkerchief, bandaged the wound as ten- 
 derly as the lad's mother could have done. Pete's sobs 
 had already ceased. He was inspecting Custis's biceps. 
 
 "I bet you could lick Jeffries," he said. 
 
 "Shucks!" sniffed Bruiser, who, with the other 
 kids, had followed Custis ashore. "He could knock 
 Jeffries out in the first round. Whyn't you try it, Mr. 
 Christian?" 
 
 "Because I am not a candidate for pugilistic glory, 
 my belo-o-ed Bruiser. Prize fighting is not to Mr. Chris- 
 tian's taste." 
 
 "You could lick him, though, if you wanted to," 
 pursued Bruiser, confidently. "Gee Buck! Ain't he 
 got one muscle on him," he added, in awed tones to 
 the kid next to him. "I don't reckon you'd take a 
 hundred dollars for your muscle, would you, M 
 Christian?" 
 
 "That's rather a mean amount, Bruiser." 
 
 "A thousand, then?" suggested Pete. 
 
 Custis shook his head. 
 
 "I reckon you'd take a million dollars," said 
 Bruiser. 
 
 "Nor a million," replied Custis. "Gentlemen, the 
 Christian muscle is not for sale at any price." 
 
 And, laughing, he put Pete on his feet and sprang 
 to his own, as one of his companions shouted from a 
 rock out in midriver: 
 
 "Aren't you coming in any more?" 
 
 The kids, except the damaged Pete, all rushed 
 back into the water. 
 
170 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "You won't go in, then?" said Custis again to 
 Pelham. 
 
 'T — I can't swim," replied young Huntington, 
 blushing as if he were confessing some misdeed. 
 
 "Oh, that's nothing," said Custis, divining how 
 he felt about it. "There are lots of boys who, like 
 you, can't swim, and they are as fine fellows as those 
 who can, only they miss a huge amount of fun; 
 that's all." 
 
 "I am aware of that." 
 
 "What's the matter with your learning? I will 
 teach you. I would love to do it. I have taught other 
 boys to swim, and some of them can do aquatic stunts 
 that I can't do," and he laughed, burrowing his great 
 toe in the sand. "Come, strip off and I'll give you the 
 first lesson. A second one may be unnecessary, you 
 may suddenly develop such duck-like daring." 
 
 And Pelham at once proceeded to obey him, as 
 one impelled by some powerful hypnotic influence. 
 
 "That's a good boy," said Custis, soothingly. 
 "There's a large clean rock back of that willow. Put 
 your clothes there with mine. My friends tell me you 
 are from New York, but they couldn't think of your 
 name." 
 
 "Yes, I live in New York." 
 
 "I hope you feel at home among us." 
 
 "I have been very lonely — until now." 
 
 "You have? That's too bad. Loneliness is no 
 light thing. Look here ! Where have I seen you 
 before? The more I look at you the more I am con- 
 vinced that I have met you somewhere. What is your 
 name ?" 
 
 "Oh, Custis! Custis! Don't you know me?" 
 
 "Why, it's — can it be — Pelham Huntington? Yes, 
 yes! Pelham! Pelham! You dear boy !" 
 
 And Pelham felt himself drawn into the clasp of 
 the big, bare arms and kissed as tenderly as if he 
 were a little child, and when the strong, loving arms 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH i;i 
 
 fell from about him there was a Hght all over his face 
 that told of the passing of his loneliness. 
 
 "How stupid of me not to know you," said Custis. 
 "But you see I never dreamed of your coming South to 
 college, and then I had not looked you squarely in 
 the face until a minute ago. You have changed, too, 
 my boy. Are you aware of that ?" 
 
 "Changed? How?" 
 
 "Why, you are not as delicate-looking as you were. 
 You are stouter and pinker." 
 
 "It is pleasant to hear that, and from you." 
 
 "Oh, you are all right! You might be a little 
 more robust, but if you will just put yourself into my 
 hands, I will shape you out perfectly. Of course, it is 
 beyond me to bring you up to the proportions of 
 Taffee when you are cut in the daintier pattern of Little 
 Billee ; but I promise you that the folk at home will not 
 know their little boy when he returns to them next 
 June. Pelham, my boy," he broke out warmly, "I am 
 just overjoyed to see you again! I haven't been so 
 happy in a long, long time. You don't know how I 
 love you and have thought of you, little boy, since that 
 day we parted in Hollywood." 
 
 "Really, Custis? Really?" sighing from sheer 
 happiness. 
 
 "Yes, really, you modern Thomas. It isn't gener- 
 ous of you to doubt me like that. Say, talk to me ; tell 
 me some things I don't knov/." 
 
 And Custis flung himself in boyish abandon on 
 the sand, pulling Pelham gently down beside him. 
 
 "And you have been at college a whole week — in 
 the identical structure with me — and refused to speak 
 to me ? That looks as if you loved me ?" 
 
 "It was because I love you that I couldn't obtrude 
 myself upon you. I thought you had forgotten me, 
 Custis, and it hurt me so I could have cried." 
 
 "Poor little chap ! But it is all right now, isn't 
 it ? You know now I love you, don't you ?" 
 
172 REBELS OF THE XEW SOITTH 
 
 ''Yes ; the hurt is all gone." in a voice vibrant 
 with joy. 
 
 Custis scooped up a pahn full of sand and began 
 to sift it through his fingers. 
 
 "Your mother is well?" he questioned. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And your father is not ill ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And Aliss Johnson hasn't succumbed to appendi- 
 citis or matrimony ?" 
 
 "To the latter she has." 
 
 "She changed her mind then about going into a 
 convent? That was sensible of her." 
 
 And Custis scooped up another palm full of sand 
 and sifted it through his fingers. 
 
 "And Virginia — how is she ? She is not — 
 married ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "By the way, didn't I call her Virginia?" 
 
 "Yes ; but that was all right." 
 
 "It was a bold, bad break. Pardon me, Pelham. 
 I'll tell you how it came about. Virginia is a very 
 familiar name to me. For two years the sweetesf 
 little girl the Lord ever created has made her home 
 with us, and her name is Virginia — Virginia Nelson. 
 Have you a sweetheart, Pelham?" 
 
 "No, Custis." 
 
 "Then I'll give you my little Virginia, but you'll 
 have to wait some years for her. Let me show you her 
 picture. I have it in my ])ocket." 
 
 He rose to get it, breaking softly into a fragment 
 of "Annie Laurie" : 
 
 "Ilcr brow is like the snowdrift, 
 Her throat is like the swan." 
 
 "Roosevelt and Santiago! There's a woman. Pel- 
 ham ! A woman, and she is on the warpath !" 
 
 There was a gleam of nude limbs through willows 
 and Custis was out of sight, leaving Pelham con- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 173 
 
 fronted by a slovenly virago, senselessly striking the 
 air with a switch. 
 
 "You Lee-ah ! You Lee-ah Garrett !" she 
 screeched. 
 
 But the namesake of Robert E. Lee failed to an- 
 swer. An oppressive silence reigned among the kids, 
 so boisterously in evidence a moment ago. Only two 
 of the crowd had the temerity to show their heads, 
 and they stirred listlessly about in the water, as if 
 life had suddenly lost all interest for them. 
 
 "You Lee-ah! Lee-ah Garrett!" continued the 
 shrew. "Taint no use makin' out you don't hear me. 
 If you don't come out that water there Fll skin you 
 alive!" 
 
 "Lee ain't here nov/heres, Mrs. Garrett," ven- 
 tured Bruiser, lying magnanimously in the effort to 
 shield his comrade from maternal wrath. 
 
 "Lee-ah ! You Lee-ah ! If you don't answer me 
 I'll take every one of your duds, and a pretty chromo 
 you'll make trotting home without 'em, won't you?" 
 
 And in violent agitation she seized Custis's clothes 
 and started off, as if to put her threat into fact. 
 
 Pelham followed, touching her lightly on the arm. 
 
 "Pardon me, my good woman," he said, "but 
 you have the wrong clothes." 
 
 She flung them at his feet and glared viciously. 
 
 "What you take me for — a thief?" 
 
 "Certainly not. It was only a mistake." 
 
 "Then what you raising such a racket about? 
 I'd have you to know I'm a lady, my fine dude — a lady, 
 a lady!" 
 
 And she turned witheringly from him, resuming 
 her infernal yells for one "Lee-ah," while Pelham 
 started in search of Custis, bearing the latter's clothes. 
 
 "This way, Pelham !" shouted Custis, laughing, as 
 he poked his head from out the confusion of honey- 
 suckle, wild rose and sweet bay in which he had hidden. 
 
 "And she attempted to confiscate my trousers, 
 
174 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 garters, etc., etc., did she? The droll girl! But you 
 held her up, you made her drop them? Pelham, you 
 are plucky ; you are a hero. Do you know it, my son ? 
 Listen to that poor kid's cries, will you? She is posi- 
 tively murdering him." 
 
 "Custis! Custis! Where in the thunder are 
 you ?" cried one of his fellow-seniors, as he sprang out 
 of the water, followed by the other. 
 
 "Here I am, William, enmeshed in honeysuckle 
 and other vegetation that makes for fragrance. But 
 I'm going to get out of the tangle." 
 
 And, laughing, he stepped out among his com- 
 panions where only grass and violets grew. 
 
 "Gentlemen, you are just in time to rejoice with 
 me — say, Pelham, isn't that she coming this way? 
 Boys ! Boys ! Run ! Fly ! Flee from the wrath to 
 come ! She is moving upon us — that loud lady !" 
 
 "Let her come ! I don't care a blackberry," an- 
 swered William, doggedly. "What business has a 
 woman prowling around where men and boys go 
 bathing?" 
 
 "Theoretically, you are right, William. The lady 
 is undoubtedly trespassing on stag territory. But a 
 condition, not a theory, confronts us, and, regai-dless 
 of our rights in the premises, we must withdraw until 
 the lady passes. Tliere she is ! Back to where the 
 honeysuckle grows ! Ouch, my toe !" 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 They had walked five miles or more and stood, 
 red-cheeked, on the edge of a forest where the wild 
 grapes hung ripe and abundant. 
 
 A fortnight's close intercourse had made them as 
 one — these two white young Hves, these sweet sons 
 of the same sire. 
 
 "These grapes are good, Custis," remarked Pel- 
 ham, who, with Custis, had devoured cluster after 
 cluster. 'T never ate Malagas with keener relish." 
 
 "This October air and our long tramp are largely 
 responsible for the relish," laughed Custis. 
 
 "Probably. Is October in Virginia always glori- 
 ous like this, Custis?" 
 
 "Now and then we have a sunless day, but most 
 of the month is like this." 
 
 "Isn't it divine?" 
 
 And Pelham swept off his hat, baring his hair to 
 the pine-spiced breezes. 
 
 "Oh, I am so happy, Custis ! I love life so !" 
 
 "Your face tells it eloquently, and not only your 
 face, but also your voice and your step. There is a 
 gladness in the one, there is a spring in the other, that 
 do my heart good. I shall succeed splendidly with you. 
 I shall build you into a grand little athlete. I am 
 succeeding already, you are so apt a pupil." 
 
 "And do you know why ?" 
 
 Custis shook his head, and with one bound 
 sprang over the snake fence toward which they had 
 been moving, arm in arm. 
 
 "75 
 
176 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "It is because I love my tutor and want to be like 
 him," said Pelham, when he had followed Custis over 
 the fence. "I realize, however, that I can never attain 
 your strength, your physique, no matter how hard I 
 try. But I am satisfied. I can rejoice in your strength. 
 The bigness, the beauty of you make me positively 
 joyous. I lose myself, I become you, I love you so. 
 You understand?" 
 
 "Perfectly. We are one, little brother, you and I ; 
 as Uncle Pierre and I are one. And when you come to 
 know him, as you will soon, we three shall be one — a 
 trinity of lovers, working to make other men lovers, 
 working for the fraternization of the world. Pelham, 
 there is in you the making of one of the finest Socialists 
 in the world." 
 
 "Why, Custis?" 
 
 "Why? Because of your marvelous capacity for 
 loving, your divine way of losing yourself in others, 
 your exquisite refinement. No one possessed of such 
 attributes can but turn with loathing from the ugliness 
 of individualism and long and work and spend himself 
 for its overthrow." 
 
 "You are as w^arm a Socialist as ever, I sec ?" 
 
 "Yes, a red-hot one, and scientific and uncom- 
 promising as Karl Marx himself. Did you think, be- 
 cause I hadn't brought up the subject before, that I 
 had outgrown my boyhood's dream of reconstructing 
 society — that I had forsaken the way of salvation for 
 the human race? What do you say to taking up the 
 study of socialism with me. I won't say I wish to 
 make a Socialist of you. Socialists, like poets, are born, 
 not made. You have the germ of one in you ; it needs 
 quickening, that's all." 
 
 "And it has been quickened, Custis. You did it 
 long ago." 
 
 "You don't tell me vou are a Socialist — full- 
 fledged?" 
 
 "Full-fledged." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 177 
 
 "You charming chap ! Tell me all about it." 
 
 "And Virginia is a Socialist, too, Custis !" 
 
 "Virginia a Socialist !" clapping his hands. "Why, 
 that's joyful news ! But how did all this come about ? 
 Tell me the story of it while we take a sunset bath 
 on this clover. I suspect you are a little tired after 
 your long tramp. You are not up to me as a pedes- 
 trian yet, you city-bred people are so addicted to the 
 trolley vice." 
 
 And they stretched themselves on the deep, cool 
 clover that embroidered the roadside. 
 
 "Now, Little Billee, I am ready," said Custis, roll- 
 ing over on his right side and facing Pelham. 
 
 "You remember your telling me you were a So- 
 cialist that day in Hollywood?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, that one sentence of yours is what started 
 the work." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I told Virginia you were a Socialist." 
 
 "You and your sister are warm chums, I imagine ? 
 Well, what did she say? Was she long in recovering 
 from the shock?" 
 
 "She declared that I had misunderstood you. You 
 couldn't be one of those things, she said. Why, they 
 were Anarchists. The newspapers always spoke of 
 them as the same sort of people, and they were hor- 
 ribly wicked. They hated the rich, they wanted to kill 
 them, and they were unwashed and unkempt and long- 
 haired and ignorant. No, no, Custis couldn't be a So- 
 cialist, she declared again and again, and I declared as 
 stoutly that you were. At last I suggested that we 
 consult the Encyclopsedia Brittanica and see what that 
 had to say of Socialists and Socialism. She agreed, 
 and together we hunted the subject up, and it was a 
 revelation to us. Virginia vowed she would never 
 again believe anvthing a newspaper said." 
 
178 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "So your prejudices were removed? Then what 
 did you and Virginia do next?" 
 
 "We rested the matter there for a year or more, 
 so far as further investigation was concerned, but our 
 interest in the subject by no means dechned. One day 
 two of father's club friends — RepubHcans and pluto- 
 crats like himself — were taking dinner with us, when 
 the discussion turned on Rockefeller's colossal wealth. 
 'By the way, Huntington,' said one of the men, 'what 
 do you think of Lloyd's "Wealth Against Common- 
 wealth," showing up the Standard Oil Trust?' 'Well, 
 between us, gentlemen,' replied father, 'it is undoubt- 
 edly true, every line of the book; but such books are 
 calculated to do a world of mischief. They inflame 
 the mob and give an impetus to Bellamyism. They 
 lash the discontented into Socialists and Anarchists.' 
 Virginia and I smiled at each other, and when we 
 were alone she said : 'Let's find that book, Pelham, and 
 read it. I am curious to know if it will lash me into 
 a Socialist.' So we found the book, and every evening 
 we would get together and Virginia would read 
 aloud two or three chapters, until, at last, the book 
 was finished. You wouldn't have thought a girl of 
 sixteen and a boy of thirteen, as we were at the time, 
 would have been interested in a work of that kind ; but 
 we were, and deeply. It fascinated us like a novel, 
 and it made us angry, too. We were afire with indig- 
 nation most of the time we were reading it." 
 
 "And you came to the conclusion that Mr. Rocke- 
 feller and his confederates are the only anarchists to 
 be feared?" 
 
 "Yes, and we are still of that opinion. Then, 
 having heard father use the word Bellamyism as a 
 thing synonymous with socialism, we bought 'Looking 
 Backward,' and we became at once absorbed in the 
 book. I can't tell you how it delighted us. We wanted 
 just such a condition of affairs as Julian West ran up 
 against when he awakened out of his century's sleep. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 179 
 
 In short, the book showed us where we were. We 
 were with you; we were SociaHsts, and we proudly 
 proclaimed ourselves as such to father and mother. 
 Mother was almost as horrified as father. But we 
 immediately took her in hand, Virginia and I, and we 
 have nearly brought her to where we are, though she 
 stoutly protests that she is still a Democrat and intends 
 to die one." 
 
 "How interesting all this is — delightfully so!" 
 cried Custis, rolling gleefully over on his back and 
 pillowing his head on his palms. 
 
 'T felt that the making of a Socialist was in you," 
 he said, "but I did not dream you had made such 
 astounding progress. And your sister — why, she is a 
 sister that a boy ought to adore !" 
 
 "And that's what I do. She is a girl in ten thou- 
 sand, Virginia Yancey is !" inflating his breast with 
 pride. 
 
 The sunlight had gone from the clover and the 
 crickets were holding evensong out in the goldenrod 
 and broomstraw when Custis and Pelham rose to walk 
 back to college. 
 
 "Do you intend to follow your Uncle Pierre into 
 the medical profession, Custis?" asked Pelham, when 
 they had gone some distance. 
 
 "I don't know, Pelham. My mind is not made up 
 yet as to what calling I shall pursue. I ought to have 
 hit upon some definite course by this time, as this 
 is my last session at college. But Uncle Pierre insists 
 that there is plenty of time. Besides, he wishes me to 
 take a course at Yale when I am done at Richmond 
 College." 
 
 "You will do it, Custis?" ' 
 
 "I don't know, Pelham." 
 
 "You must ! You must do it ! You would be near 
 us then ; and I would go to Yale myself next session, 
 instead of coming back here. I couldn't bear the loneli- 
 ness of Richmond College with you gone. Yes, that 
 
i8o REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 will be the very thing. You will go to Yale, Custis?" 
 
 "Ah, little boy ! You don't know how I feel about 
 it. Uncle Pierre has already done so, so much for 
 me — more than he was able to do. My going through 
 college here, I fear, has been a great drain upon his 
 resources, although he protests that he is able to bear 
 it and commands me to be quiet when I speak of the 
 matter. All the same, I feel as if I were imposing 
 upon him. Of course, I am. A big, strong fellow 
 such as I am ought to be making his own way in the 
 world, and not only this, but I ought to be putting 
 myself in shape to care for Uncle Pierre should I be 
 called upon to do it. I am afraid he is not as strong 
 as he used to be and is hiding the fact from me. He 
 has always looked out for others so that he has had 
 no time to think of himself. So long as he could keep 
 the rain from falling on his neighbor he has never 
 cared whether he got wet himself or not. He is 
 literally worn out in serving others. For me he has 
 given himself an absolute sacrifice. And it is beginning 
 to tell on him — this tireless devotion to others, to the 
 utter neglect of self. He is getting thin ; he looks 
 tired, so tired, particularly when he is asleep, that I 
 feel as if I could fling myself on his breast and sob my 
 life away for sheer sadness." 
 
 "May it not be possible that your love colors 
 things?" ventured Pelham. 
 
 "He laughs at my anxiety," answered Custis, "and 
 says he is the better man of the two, notwithstanding 
 appearances. I only wish I could believe it, for I 
 can't bear the thought of a time coming when I shall 
 not have him with me." 
 
 They had come to a brook, and it was some min- 
 utes after they had crossed it before the conversation 
 was resumed. Custis was the first to speak. 
 
 "When I go through the city and see hundreds of 
 boys and girls — mere children — going home after a 
 long, hard day's work, I arraign myself at once as a 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH i8i 
 
 parasite. I feel as if I had no right to breathe, I am 
 so overwhelmed with shame. Ambitious as I am to 
 go through college, I would not have returned this 
 session — I would have enlisted in the ranks of bread- 
 winners — if I had not been convinced that such a 
 course w^ould have cut Uncle Pierre to the death. It 
 is the one ambition of his life that I become a scholar, 
 and he is willing to undergo any sacrifice to see me 
 through," 
 
 "Your Uncle Pierre is a wise man," reflected Pel- 
 ham. "He knows what is in you better than you know 
 yourself. He foresees for you a noble future, and, 
 loving you as he does, he feels that he is doing only 
 his duty in equipping you for your life's work." 
 
 "Pelham, you are a sage !" exclaimed Custis, hug- 
 ging the boy. 
 
 "I am nothing of the kind ; but I can see far 
 enough into things to appreciate your Uncle Pierre's 
 position, and I am grieved to find you so unruly as to 
 be inclined to kick. You wull go not only through 
 Richmond College, bearing off your j\I. A. in June, 
 Custis Christian, but you will also go to Yale next ses- 
 sion, as Dr. Custis desires you to do and as ^Ir. Pel- 
 ham Huntington commands you." 
 
 Then his voice became low and his manner hesi- 
 tating, as he continued : 
 
 "If your Uncle Pierre should find himself unable 
 to cover the expense involved — why, you know — yes, 
 of course, it w^ould be covered, and gladly. You under- 
 stand me, Custis?" 
 
 "I think I do." 
 
 "I have not hurt you, Custis?" 
 
 "No, no ; on the contrary, I am touched, Pelham ; 
 but I could never think of such a thing as you have 
 in mind." 
 
 "Yes, you could and you would. You wouldn't 
 hurt me any more than you would hurt your Uncle 
 Pierre. Oh, Custis! I want you to have every ad- 
 
i82 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 vantage possible, I am so proud of you. I love you 
 so — love you as you love Dr. Custis. It was this that 
 brought me down here — my love for you, my longing 
 to be with you, and nothing else." 
 
 "Pelham !" 
 
 "For no other reason did I come. I learned you 
 were a student at Richmond College, and I yearned to 
 be near you." 
 
 "My little brother!" 
 
 "Oh, that I were !" 
 
 "You are, Pelham ! You arc ! I mean, after the 
 spirit, and that means more — much more — than a 
 brother after the flesh." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 "If I were a conservative, believing, as he does, in 
 no higher code of ethics than that which custom estab- 
 hshes, I should find no difficulty in mapping out my 
 future. I would select one of the popular professions 
 — theology, law, medicine, or journalism — with never 
 a thought as to the prostitution of soul involved. And 
 then to get there, when once the choice was made — 
 this would be the one thought controlling me. But I 
 am not an individualist, you see. And there's the 
 rub, as the young pessimist of Denmark once ob- 
 served." 
 
 They were passing the Confederate Soldiers' 
 Home, when Custis delivered himself of these 
 thoughts. 
 
 "The trouble with me is," he continued, "I am 
 afflicted with a social conscience, and a stalwart, wide- 
 awake monitor it is, this social conscience of mine. I 
 love my fellow-men, but it tells me that success, as 
 the world defines success, lies over the bodies of my 
 brothers." 
 
 Here the youths stepped out of the way of a 
 wheelman and a wheelwoman, whose aggregate 
 avoirdupois was not far from five hundred. 
 
 "It would be a great thing, a glorious thing, to 
 proclaim the unadulterated truth for which Jesus stood 
 and for which Conservatism crucified him," continued 
 Custis, when the bicycling heavyweights had rolled 
 by. "But if I declared war against hypocrisy and real 
 
 183 
 
i84 REBELS OE THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 wickedness, as He did ; if I attempted any such anar- 
 chistic proceeding as to drive the usurers out of the 
 temple, denouncing them as thieves, as recorded of 
 Him, I would find myself, instead of the money- 
 changers, out on tlie sidewalk." 
 
 "There is where the outraged saints would land 
 such an anarchist," said Pelham. "I have an idea 
 that they would land you further than that — in jail. 
 So you have thought of the ministry ?" 
 
 "Yes, but I soon abandoned the thought. The man 
 who takes Jesus seriously finds the Church a very lone- 
 ly place." 
 
 "Undoubtedly. Still, here and there, you will find 
 a minister, who, having come to a knowledge of the 
 truth, dares proclaim it, regardless of consequences. 
 There is Rev. Dr. Heber Newton of New York, for in- 
 stance. Mother, Virginia and I are communicants of 
 All Souls' Church, you know. You ought to hear the 
 gloriously audacious things that Dr. Newton is all the 
 time saying. For years he has held his own by the 
 sheer force of his personality, and I am confident that 
 your personality w^ould enable you to do the same." 
 
 "Perhaps so, but I am unwilling to take any risk 
 on my personality. Jesus's was the most masterful 
 personality the world has ever known, yet it failed to 
 avert the tragedy of Calvary." 
 
 "Yes, yes ; I can't understand it all." Then, after 
 a sigh: "Well, how about the law? Have you had a 
 leaning in that direction ?" 
 
 "None whatever. Still, I think the law would be 
 a noble calling if it upheld justice instead of defeating 
 it. But it seems to me as if the law were only intended 
 to apply to the poor, the weak ; not to the rich, the 
 ])Owerful. What do Mr. Rockefeller and his kind care 
 for the law? Don't they openly, flagrantly defy it? 
 Don't they laugh in the face of it? And the poor 
 themselves laugh at the absurdity of one's believing 
 that the law could ever touch such men. A lawyer, if 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 185 
 
 he wish to be successful, has to champion the in- 
 terests of capitaHsm and turn his back deliberately on 
 the people. If he have political ambition, he has to 
 prostitute himself thoroughly, else he will find himself 
 ruthlessly thrust out into the cold. Recall, if you 
 please, the fate of Attorney-General Monnett of Ohio 
 because of his efforts to make the Standard Oil Trust 
 toe the mark. What did he get for it? Why, the Re- 
 publicans — the party of morality and patriotism — 
 promptly turned Mr. Monnett down when renomi- 
 nating time came around. They wanted no honest 
 man, no incorruptible jurist, in theirs. He was an 
 innovation such as Republicans could never tolerate." 
 
 "I read about that, and then I heard father and 
 some of his friends discussing it one evening. Father 
 says Mr. Monnett is a damned fool, and so is any 
 otiier man who attempts to fight so gigantic a monopoly 
 as the Oil Trust. Oh, I am so ashamed of father !" 
 
 "Pelham, you are a rock in a weary land! Meta- 
 phor aside, you are refreshing. Do you know it?" 
 cried Custis, in a voice athrill with admiration. "It is 
 your audacity that makes you so. Nine hundred and 
 ninety-nine striplings out of a thousand, were they in 
 your stockings, would be parroting the plutocratic 
 platitudes of your father as if they had the seal of 
 Sinai upon them, while you, magnificent little revo- 
 lutionist, oppose him with all the strenuosity in you. 
 It takes courage of a very superior order to do that." 
 
 Pelham pressed the hand of Custis. 
 
 "What do you think of journalism?" he asked, 
 after a while. 
 
 "To be editor of a really great paper — clean, 
 truthful, progressive ; a paper that defended the liber- j 
 ties, that championed the rights of the exploited — this 
 I would love above all things to be, for the power of 
 the press seems almost limitless. But there is no paper 
 of the kind in the land — among the daily press, I mean 
 — and such an editor as I would love to be is nowhere 
 
i86 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 wanted. Men who can lie, men who are wilHng to 
 sell themselves, men whose consciences are dead — 
 these are the ones wanted on newspapers, to help 
 perpetuate the reign of plutocracy, to arrest, if possible, 
 the march of evolution. And the masses — the poor, 
 exploited, disinherited masses — read these wicked 
 sheets, believing in them as they believe in their Bibles. 
 And the consequence is they sit in darkness and 
 chains, blinded and bound by a corrupt and prostituted 
 press. Sometimes I become so sick of conditions that 
 put a premium on dishonesty and rascality, that make 
 it next to impossible for a clean, honest man to make 
 his way in the world, I feel as if there were nothing 
 for me to do but bury myself in the country, and, like 
 Tolstoy, pursue the plow. There, at least, one can 
 maintain his integrity as well as a sort of negative 
 independence, so long as he can keep his home out of 
 the grasp of the usurer. But Uncle Pierre laughs 
 at my periodical attacks of Tolstoyism, as he calls it, 
 and says my place is out in the busy, struggling, suffer- 
 ing world. He thinks in the present crisis that the 
 people need all the brains, all the culture they can rally 
 to the aid of their cause, since capitalism is able to 
 corner or cow most of the scholarship of the world." 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 "Hello !" 
 
 "Is that one C. P. Christian?" 
 
 "This is the gentleman. And what does B. Frank- 
 lin Hardie desire of the said C. P. Christian?" 
 
 "Are you going to the show ?" 
 
 "Well, I thought of taking that hayseed Hunt- 
 ington to see the animals and the unshaved lady." 
 
 "Kate and I are going. Suppose you and Hunt- 
 ington step around and take tea with us and we'll all 
 trot along together." 
 
 "That's delightfully kind of you, Bennie, but " 
 
 "But you'll come all the same. You wouldn't 
 miss coming for the world when I tell you who are 
 at my house." 
 
 "Did Uncle Pierre and Virginia come down to 
 the circus ?" 
 
 "They are guilty of that very thing, with a train 
 load of other show-struck ruralists." 
 
 "Pelham, you scamp! Do you hear that? Uncle 
 Pierre is in town !" exclaimed Custis, aside to Pelham. 
 
 "That's glorious news, Custis." 
 
 "Say, Ben, you are not joking?" said Custis, re- 
 turning to the telephone. 
 
 "It is as true as I am married. He wanted the 
 little one to see the circus, but I reckon he came 
 down to see a certain overgrown kid as much as to 
 bring Virginia to the show." 
 
 "Are they at the store?" 
 
 187 
 
i88 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "No; they went up home with Kate half an 
 hour ago." 
 
 "How is Uncle Pierre looking, Ben?" 
 
 "Like a sixteen-year-old." 
 
 "Seriously, old man: Is he looking well?" 
 
 "More than well — fine. I shall find you at the 
 Hardie mansion when I arrive ?" 
 
 "We'll be there, basking on your plush. An 
 revoir. Come, Little Billee." 
 
 They seized their hats, and, leaving word that 
 they were going out to tea, started on a half-run for 
 the Hardie home, on Grove avenue. 
 
 On the porch stood little Virginia Nelson, who, 
 since her father's death, two years before, had been 
 living at Holly Hill, the most adored child in Virginia. 
 She had been looking eagerly for Custis, and when at 
 last he came in sight she flew down the steps, crying: 
 "Brother ! Brother !" And he took her up in his arms, 
 this dear child of poor Paul and Dorothy Nelson, and, 
 thinking of them and how they had loved him, he 
 kissed the little one again and again, until there was 
 no part of the beautiful little face unkissed. 
 
 "Virginia, dear, this is Mr. Huntington, about 
 whom I write so much to Uncle Pierre. Can't you give 
 him a kiss?" 
 
 She leaned lovingly toward Pelham and gave 
 the kiss requested. 
 
 Then they ascended the porch steps, Custis with 
 Virginia in his arms. 
 
 The door opened, and Dr. Custis stepped out. 
 Custis immediately put Virginia on her feet and sprang 
 to greet the physician. 
 
 "Uncle Pierre, this is our Pelham," he said, as his 
 arm fell from about Dr. Custis's neck. 
 
 "And this is my other boy, is it ?" asked the latter. 
 
 "Yes, your other boy," answered Pelham. 
 
 And for more than a minute the Doctor held Pel- 
 ham's hand in his, looking fondly into the boy's big 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 189 
 
 eyes of blue. Very near, very dear to him was this 
 son of Louise Pelham's, this brother of the httle chap's. 
 
 The boys were greeted with effusive cordiality 
 by the pretty, vivacious young woman who had refused 
 to allow Ben's freckles to stand in the way of her be- 
 coming Mrs. Hardie, and after the exchange of a few 
 pleasantries, the lady disappeared to look after supper. 
 
 "And you are named for your mother's family?" 
 said Dr. Custis, addressing Pelham. 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "I knew your mother when she was a girl." 
 
 "So she has told me. You and she were school- 
 mates. She never tires of telling me what a manly, 
 lovable boy you were. Do you remember that spell- 
 ing match — she told me all about it — in which you 
 and she were left on the floor, and you purposely mis- 
 spelled a word — it was chrysanthemum— so she could 
 win?" 
 
 Dr. Custis laughed merrily. 
 
 "Will Louise never get that idea out of htc Head? 
 She had no reason whatever for her suspicion." 
 
 "She had every reason, she says." 
 
 "You never told me of that interesting Incident, 
 Uncle Pierre !" exclaimed Custis, affecting an ag- 
 grieved tone. "Of course, you were guilty ; of course, 
 you purposely misspelled that word so Mrs. Hunting- 
 ton could corner the bay. It was like you. You are 
 full of chivalric tricks. Isn't he, Little Billee ?" 
 
 "I imagine he is," laughed Pelham, one hand in 
 the Doctor's, the other on Custis's shoulder. 
 
 "What do you think, Uncle Pierre? Pelham is 
 going to spend the Christmas holidays with us," said 
 Custis, after a silence. 
 
 "That's delightful news," was the physician's re- 
 ply. "Ben and Kate also will be with us then." 
 
 "How is everybody in the country, Uncle Pierre ?" 
 
 "Moving along in the same old ruts. Everybody 
 
190 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 sent lots of love to )^ou, and along with hers mammy 
 sent you a pound cake she made yesterday." 
 
 "Bless her old white heart! Pelham, we won't 
 do a thing to that cake, will we ? How is mammy ?" 
 
 "In prime condition. She feels your absence 
 keenly, however, as she always does. I wrote you she 
 had gone back to singing T Would Not Live Always '? 
 That's her favorite hymn," aside to Pelham, "when 
 Custis is away. She sings it all the autumn, all the 
 winter, and all the spring. Virginia, dear, where are 
 Brother's chrysanthemums ?" 
 
 "Oh, I forgot!" cried the little girl, springing 
 from Custis's leg. 
 
 "Are those they?" he asked, pointing to a huge 
 bunch of white and yellow ones on the piano. 
 
 "I brought those to Mrs. Hardie. Yours are up- 
 stairs." 
 
 And she darted thither, returning in a second with 
 a bunch as choice as Mrs. Hardie's. 
 
 "Thank you, sweetheart," kissing her. "Lovely, 
 aren't they, Pelham ? We grow chrysanthenuims like 
 these at Holly Hill, don't we. Uncle Pierre? We are 
 flower-growers, Custis and Christian are." 
 
 Pie fastened a white chrysanthemum on Pelham's 
 lapel, then he adorned Dr. Custis with another, him- 
 self with a third, and Ben, coming in at this juncture, 
 had to submit to a like decoration, despite his protest 
 that he was a "plain fellow without frills or flowers." 
 
 "Custis Christian, you are a tyrant," he said, 
 moving off with his chrysanthemum. "Everybody 
 must do as you command them, or there is no living 
 , where you are. I would have kicked outright but for 
 fear of offending your Uncle Pierre. Because he 
 submits to your tyrannv, he expects evervbodv else 
 to do it." 
 
 "Suwanee River! What is that?" cried Mrs. 
 Hardie, rejoining her guests. "Doctor, can you tell 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 191 
 
 me? Ctistis, do you know? Mr. Huntington, did you 
 ever see anything like that in New York?" 
 
 "Why, Katherine, don't you know me? It is 
 your Bennie dodging behind a bleached cabbage. Cus- 
 tis Christian put me there. Say, My Katydid, is supper 
 ready ?" 
 
 "Not quite, my Kentucky Cardinal," she an- 
 swered, pushing back one of his clay-colored locks. 
 
 "We haven't much time," looking at his watch. 
 "I'm afraid, Custis, we won't have a chance to show 
 Huntington your unshaved lady. We'll have to press 
 right into the big show, and when that's over she and 
 the animals will be on their way to Petersburg." 
 
 Presently Ben skipped from the room. In a 
 minute he skipped back, bearing a plump, pretty boy 
 in his second year. 
 
 "Gentlemen and bachelors, this is some compensa- 
 tion for a man's loss of liberty," he said. "What do 
 you think of him. Doctor?" 
 
 "He is a bouncing boy." 
 
 "He is all right, if he does inherit his dad's sorrel 
 silk. Just so long as I haven't handed him down my 
 freckles, I can stand the red hair and call it golden. 
 But freckles are freckles the world over. There is 
 no polite name for them." 
 
 "They'll show up on him after awhile," said Kate. 
 "It isn't time yet. You never know what color a 
 chicken is going to be till its feathers come out." 
 
 "Yes," said Custis. "White and black chickens 
 alike grow into dominico pullets and roosters. But, 
 Benjamin, this has nothing to do with freckles. I am 
 just airing my knowledge of poultry. I hope, for your 
 sake, however, since you are so hostile to freckles, 
 that your son and heir will never develop a case of 
 them. For your comfort, let me add that I have no 
 prejudice against freckles. I love you in spite of them, 
 and so do all of us, including Mrs. Hardie. Virginia, 
 do you know, dear," taking the baby from his father's 
 
192 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 arms and showing him to the Httle girl," that you 
 were not as large as this little fellow the first time I 
 saw you? Can you realize that you were ever as 
 small ?" 
 
 "And do you know, Custis, dear," said Ben, mock- 
 ingly, "that you were no larger than this little fellow 
 the first time I saw you? Can you realize that you 
 were ever as small ? Doctor, we know a thing or two 
 of ancient history, don't we?" 
 
 Here supper was announced, and the bahy was 
 turned over to his nurse. 
 
 It was Virginia's first visit to the circus. Custis 
 took complete possession of the child, and led the way, 
 with her in his arms, through the menagerie, showing 
 her all the animals, birds, reptiles and human freaks. 
 
 "Monkeys are so funny, I think," she said. "Don't 
 you think so, Brother?" 
 
 "The funniest things in the world, Virginia." 
 
 "They don't look happy, though. They look to me 
 as if they were in pain." 
 
 "That's because their faces hurt them." 
 
 "What do you reckon makes their faces hurt 
 them ? Toothache ?" 
 
 "No, because they are so ugly." 
 
 The grand entree was over, and the ringmaster 
 was introducing to the audience "little fourteen-year- 
 old Charlie Dale, the champion boy bare-back rider of 
 the world." 
 
 And just as our party seated themselves in the 
 first row of seats a white horse dashed into the ring, 
 and following him came a shapely youngster in pink 
 tights. With a salute to the multitude, he sprang upon 
 the animal and flew around the ring, doing marvelous 
 things, which evoked tremendous applause. But others 
 came after him, doing things as marvelous, and some 
 more marvelous, and Charlie and his wonderful feats 
 were forgotten by the fickle spectators. It was not 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 193 
 
 the boy's way, however, to let himself drop so quickly 
 out of sight, for before the performance was half over 
 he was seen moving among the crowd selling his pho- 
 tograph, like the enterprising prodigy he was. 
 
 "What is your price, sonny?" asked Ben Hardie, 
 as the boy paused before him and Kate. 
 
 "One dime, sir," replied the lad, his eyes fixed 
 intently on Dr. Custis. 
 
 "Hello, Uncle Pierre !" he cried, absently pocket- 
 ing the dime that Ben had given him, and springing 
 tov\^ard the physician, his face aglow with gladness. 
 
 "You have tlie advantage of me, my boy," replied 
 Dr. Custis, but he took the boy's hand and pressed it, 
 he loved all youth so. 
 
 "Aren't you Dr. Custis?" 
 
 "I am Dr. Custis." 
 
 "I thought so." 
 
 And the young equestrian was about to move 
 away, but the physician detained him. 
 
 "Now, tell me who you are. Your real name is 
 not Charlie Dale ?" 
 
 "Don't you remember Carroll Crane, who came to 
 see you one time with Aunt Bab and her push?" 
 
 "Certainly I do ! My dear little fellow ! How are 
 you ?" 
 
 The Doctor drew the boy to him, placing him on 
 his knee, while Carroll, unused in years to such tender- 
 ness, impulsively flung his arm about the physician's 
 neck. 
 
 "That was a fine time I had at your house, Uncle 
 Pierre. I often think of you and Custis and of Uncle 
 Remus and Brer Rabbit. Don't you know how you 
 and Custis would read about 'em to Phyllis and me?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, son. My poor little boy!" stroking his 
 hair. "How is it that you are running around the 
 country with a circus?" 
 
 "I had to do something. My old man he went 
 and croaked " 
 
194 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Croaked?" 
 
 "He died, I mean." 
 
 "Yes? And your mother?" 
 
 "She got stuck on some drunken slob and he got 
 stuck on the dough that my old man had left her and 
 the first thing I knowed they had combined their 
 crockery." 
 
 "Combined their crockery?" 
 
 "They got married, I mean." 
 
 "You were opposed to the marriage, then?" 
 
 "I wouldn't had no kick coming Jong as he 
 treated me on the square, but he was a damned 
 brute. He beat me so " 
 
 "Beat you, son? He zvas a damned brute then." 
 
 And he hugged the boy, he felt so sorry for him, 
 cruelty to youth hurt him so. 
 
 "Uncle Pierre?" 
 
 "Well, Carroll?" 
 
 "Why ain't all men like you? I've laid wake of 
 nights and wished they was." 
 
 "And he beat you so, your stepfather did, that 
 you ran away, Carroll?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And don't your mother know where you are?" 
 
 "No, sir, and she don't give a damn." 
 
 "You can't make me beheve that, my boy." 
 
 "It's so all righty. She got so stuck on the slob 
 she married she thought everything he done was O. K. 
 Say, Rutherford, he got it in the neck, didn't he, for 
 that little private vaudeville of his?" 
 
 "That was a dci)lc)rable allair, Carroll." 
 
 "They hvmg 'Rclius, didn't they?" 
 
 "He was sentenced to be hanged, but the Supreme 
 Court, to which we appealed his case, granted him a 
 new trial, and the second jury gave him eighteen years 
 in the penitentiary." 
 
 "Do you ever hear from Phyllis?" 
 
 "About once a month. She was married last 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 195 
 
 spring to a fine young westerner. They spent a fort- 
 night of their honeymoon at Holly Hill, and I took 
 quite a fancy to her husband." 
 
 "That's good. Say, how's Custis, Uncle Pierre? 
 He's a grown-up man now, ain't he?" 
 
 "Yes. There he is, sitting between that lady and 
 little girl." 
 
 "Is that Custis ? Gosh ! But ain't he a big fellow ?" 
 
 "He was a big boy, Carroll." 
 
 "Yes, I know. I didn't know that was Custis, and 
 yet I thought there was something familiar about him. 
 Why, I sold him one of my photographs. The little 
 girl wanted it. You guess he'd be glad to see me, 
 Uncle Pierre?" 
 
 "Try him, Carroll, and if you don't get the heartiest 
 hug you have had in years, I'll never venture another 
 prediction." 
 
 The boy glided past the Hardies, and, pausing 
 before Custis with a sort of awe, modestly made him- 
 self known, and the hearty hug that the Doctor had 
 promised followed quickly, Custis's delight at seeing 
 the lad equaling the Doctor's. 
 
 And while the two talked, leaving Virginia to 
 herself for the while, Dr. Custis told Pelham and the 
 Hardies how he had come to know the young circus 
 rider. 
 
 "Weren't you glad to see the little fellow, 
 Uncle Pierre?" was Custis's first remark when the 
 performance was over. 
 
 "I was, indeed. But it hurts me to see a child 
 like that roaming about with a circus." 
 
 "Didn't he have on pretty pink pants. Uncle 
 Pierre?" observed Virginia. 
 
 "I hate to spoil your alliterative. Miss Nelson," 
 said Custis, "but the word is trousers, not pants. Uncle 
 Pierre, did you hear this young lady ? Are you grow- 
 ing lax in your methods of bringing up children ? You 
 always corrected me whenever I said pants or breeches. 
 Now, see to it that you correct her, too." 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 "What is the matter, Custis? You are hurt; I 
 know it by that bruised look that your eyes wear. Tell 
 me, big brother, who could be fiend enough to wound 
 you — you who could not wound anything that 
 breathes ?" 
 
 "And what are you going to do about it, little 
 boy? Challenge the offender?" 
 
 "No; but there is no depth to my contempt for 
 one who could hurt you. It argues total depravity, 
 if anything does." 
 
 "But how do you know I am hurt?" 
 
 "Your eyes, I insist, give it away. I know what 
 has happened. You were easily the lion of the even- 
 ing, and some mean-spirited individual, moved by 
 envy, said something to cut you. Am I not right?" 
 
 They had removed their shoes and sat with legs 
 stretched before a vigorous log fire, while the wind 
 wailed around the old country house as though it were 
 a midwinter's night. They were in Hanover County, 
 having come from the city to attend a Hallowe'en ball. 
 The ball was over, and the guests had all departed 
 save Custis and Pelham, who, not of the neighborhood, 
 had been prevailed upon to spend the night with their 
 host and hostess. 
 
 "I have something to tell you, Pelham," saitl 
 Custis. "I ought to have told you ere this, perhaps, 
 and with the facts before you, let you judge for your- 
 self whether or not I am a fit companion for you. But 
 
 196 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 197 
 
 I thought it didn't matter to you ; that, being a So- 
 ciaHst, you looked at things differently from the false, 
 unjust way in which conventionalism looks at them. 
 Pelham," he continued, "you are right. I was hurt 
 to-night and to the core of me. I feel it even now." 
 
 "I know you do. You can't deceive me." 
 
 "Pelham, I am going to tell you all about myself, 
 tell you what I am." 
 
 "You don't have to do that, Custis. I know what 
 you are. You are the embodiment of manliness ; you 
 are purity incarnated." 
 
 Custis smiled, giving the boy a caress. 
 
 "Granted that be true, Pelham," he said, "it counts 
 for nothing with some people, and people, too, who 
 have the most to say about morality, who are the 
 loudest in their religious professions. You were intro- 
 duced to a Mrs. Atherton to-night, weren't you?" 
 
 "That woman in the black silk cut after the fash- 
 ion of twenty years ago? That woman who was all 
 the time moving about with the purr and the tread of 
 a cat?" 
 
 "That describes her perfectly." 
 
 "And it was she, Custis, who hurt you?" 
 
 "It was she, Pelham. You saw me talking with 
 Miss Beverley and Miss Ruffin just before we wound 
 up with the Virginia Reel?" 
 
 "Yes, and I hungered to be with you, but Colonel 
 Mason thought he was entertaining me with an account 
 of his experiences at the battle of Cold Harbor, and I 
 was not ill-bred enough to undeceive the old gentle- 
 man. By the way, wasn't she, this Mrs. Atherton, 
 sitting behind you while you were talking with Miss 
 Rufifin and Miss Beverley?" 
 
 "Yes ; she was gossiping with another antique in 
 petticoats. They had hardly seated themselves behind 
 us when Mrs. Atherton said in a voice intended for 
 my ears: T tell you, Sue, times have changed since 
 we were girls. A young man in those days had to show 
 
198 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 not only who his parents were, but also who his parents' 
 parents were, and so on for generations back. But 
 in these days he doesn't even have to tell who his 
 parents are. All that is required of a young man now- 
 adays is a handsome face, good clothes and the trick 
 of appearing to advantage in company. The result 
 is any young scrub, no matter how obscure or shameful 
 his origin, can push his way to the front. No, Sue, 
 it wasn't that way when we were young. The young 
 men who paid us attentions had pedigrees, they did. 
 They had to produce their credentials before they could 
 get into good society.' " 
 
 "The old wasp !" cried Pelham, hotly. "But how 
 do you know that all that Noah's Ark rot was aimed 
 at you, Custis?" 
 
 "At me, and nobody else, were those antede- 
 luvian reflections fired, Pelham." 
 
 Custis smiled grimly ; then his face took on an 
 ineffable sadness. 
 
 "Pelham, do you know why she talked like that?" 
 
 "No, Custis." 
 
 "It was because I am denied my father's name ; 
 because I bear my mother's. Do you know, little boy, 
 that I was born out of wedlock?" 
 
 "No ! No, Custis !" 
 
 "What? Do you shrink from me — you who love 
 me so?" 
 
 "No ! No ! My God ! No ! You misunderstand 
 me, Custis! It was because of my love for you, it was 
 because of the pain your own words gave you, that I 
 cried out so. I don't care how you were born, in or 
 out of wedlock. It is enough for me to know that 
 when you were born the sweetest spirit I ever knew 
 took on the burden of flesh." 
 
 "You love me, then? It makes no dift'crcnce to 
 you, this that I have told you?" 
 
 "It makes me love you more, if such a thing bo 
 possible. You may not believe it, Custis, but I woukl 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 199 
 
 rather that my father should have denietl me his 
 name than that yours should have denied you his." 
 
 ■ "I believe it, little brother. You are a noble boy — 
 the noblest boy I ever knew. Jesus would have loved 
 you, Pelham — loved you more than he loved John. 
 You refresh me, you invigorate me, little brother!" 
 
 "Then the sting of that old wasp is gone?" 
 
 "Yes, your love, your loyalty have healed it. And 
 you would rather that your father should have denied 
 you his name than that my father should have denied 
 me his?" 
 
 And Custis looked full into Pelham's eyes, a 
 strange, glad light in his own which it was not given 
 Pelham to interpret. 
 
 "God bless you for those words, but more for the 
 love that inspired them. Still I v/ould not have things 
 other than they are. Except the sorrow that was my 
 mother's portion before and for a time after my birth, 
 Destiny could not have shaped the way I have come 
 more to my desire, my path could not have wound 
 through pleasanter places. And even for her, my poor 
 little mother, it all came right ; the rough way was 
 made smooth for her long before she died. Yes, in 
 looking back over the years, I am persuaded that 
 everything has happened for the best. I would not 
 have had it otherwise. If my father repudiated me, 
 Uncle Pierre took me up, and his love has compensated 
 a hundred fold. I cannot conceive of life apart from 
 him. I shudder to think of what I might have been 
 without his hand to guide me." 
 
 A log, burned in tvv^o parts, fell from the andirons 
 and rolled out on the hearth. Custis seized the tongs 
 and laid the pieces of blazing wood back in the heart of 
 the fire. 
 
 "Did you ever think, Pelham, of what a terrible 
 crime it is to wrong the girl who loves you — some 
 sweet, flower-like thing who believes in you as she 
 believes in God?" 
 
200 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "There could be no crime so black," replied Pel- 
 ham, shudderingly. 
 
 "Murder, arson, even usury are not as heinous," 
 continued Custis. "There is only one other crime that 
 can approach it — the crime for which negroes are 
 lynched in the South." 
 
 "And in Ohio, New Jersey, Indiana, Illinois, 
 Kansas, Colorado, and other states not southern," 
 added the New York boy of Dixie strain ; "a fact 
 which our hypocritical Republican sheets con- 
 veniently overlook in their campaign against south- 
 ern lawlessness." 
 
 Custis smiled absently. 
 
 "But rape, revolting as it is, is the act of a beast," 
 he said. "Seduction is the act of a villain. The vil- 
 lain thinks. The beast does not. There is the differ- 
 ence. Then, too, the victim of the brute is sure of the 
 undivided sympathy of the community, as she should 
 be, and a mob arises and slays the beast. But the vic- 
 tim of the villain gets little or no sympathy. The mob, 
 if inclined to action at all. is more likely to treat the 
 woman to tar and feathers than harm her betrayer." 
 
 A cricket went hurrying across the hearth and 
 when it had disappeared Custis said : 
 
 "My mother was one of those sweet, flower-like 
 women I had in mind when I spoke, I thought her 
 beautiful — beautiful in every way. I will show you 
 her picture. It will give you something of an idea, 
 at least, of how she looked." 
 
 Reverently he placed the photograph of Dorothy 
 Nelson into Pelham's hand, and as reverently Pel- 
 ham took it up and looked at it. It was the likeness 
 of Custis's mother ; this alone made it sacred in Pol- 
 ham's eyes. 
 
 "She Vv'as beautiful," he observed, genuinely. "And 
 she was so girlish, too! Why, Custis, Virginia looks 
 like your mother !" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 201 
 
 "You v/ill not wonder at it when I have told you 
 she was Virginia's mother." 
 
 "Really? Then Virginia is, in truth, your sister?" 
 
 "Virginia is my sister. I have a brother, too." 
 
 "This is interesting. Where is your brother, 
 Custis? Or am I presumptuous in asking the ques- 
 tion?" 
 
 "Not at all. I don't mind telling you about the 
 youngster. Where is he, you ask? At present he is 
 in Hanover County." 
 
 "Why, this is Hanover County we are in to- 
 night!" 
 
 "There is where we are." 
 
 "How old is your brother, Custis ?" 
 
 "Eighteen years of age." 
 
 "Just my age!" 
 
 "Just your age." 
 
 "Is he like you, Custis?" 
 
 "I am a bigger fellow than he, but we have eyes 
 and hair alike, and we are said to have mouths like 
 each other." 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Hardie remarked that of our mouths, 
 didn't she?" 
 
 "Did she?" 
 
 "Certainly. Don't you remember? And I have 
 loved her ever since. And we have hair and eyes alike, 
 haven't we ? What kind of a boy is your brother, Cus- 
 tis? Do you love him very much?" 
 
 "I love him more than my own life. But how can 
 I help it when he is the most lovable, the most unselfish 
 boy in the world ?" 
 
 "You don't mean that, Custis ?" 
 
 "I certainly do." 
 
 Pelham gave a heavy sigh, oppressed by a feeling 
 that was new to him. Could it be jealousy? 
 
 He returned the photograph to Custis, who put 
 it carefully away. For a minute or more they sat 
 watching the flames. Then Custis turned to Pelham, 
 
202 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 and, flinging one leg over the other, proceeded to tell 
 him the story of his mother's wrongs. And Pelham 
 gave sympathetic ear, moved as deeply as if it had been 
 his own mother betrayed and he the child robbed of 
 his heritage. 
 
 "I can understand why you worship Uncle Pierre 
 as you do," he said. "Knowing him, I could never be 
 an agnostic, he mirrors God so clearly." 
 
 "Yes, he reflects all the attributes of a just and 
 loving deity such as our spirits cry out after. He is 
 truly a son of God by right of his Godlikeness." 
 
 "And Mr. Nelson — little Virginia's father — was a 
 noble man, too, wasn't he?" 
 
 "He was another of God's sons — he is, I mean, 
 for death to such as he is but the door opening into life 
 more abundant, not annihilation. His memory will 
 always be fragrant to me. Why not? Wasn't it lie who 
 rescued my mother from a life of degradation, who 
 brought her peace and happiness, who made her last 
 years so beautiful with his tenderness and love? He 
 loved me, too, as he loved his own little Virginia. I 
 was with him in his last days. He had sent for me. 
 He died in my arms, holding Virginia's hand. It was 
 the way he wanted to go, he said, surrounded by his 
 two children. It was a great grief to him because he 
 had nothing to leave me but a few trinkets of my 
 mother — her rings and the like. 'Son,' he said, 'it (s 
 all I have, this old Georgia plantation left me by my 
 grandfather, and it is my duty to leave it to our little 
 Virginia, she being a girl and less able to bulTet the 
 world's cruelty than you, Vvdio are a man and so strong. 
 But, for all that, I wish I had something to leave you.' 
 I assured him that if he had twenty plantations I would 
 not take one of them from my little sister. Still he 
 was not satisfied. 'You know I have always loved 
 you as if you were my own boy, loved you from the 
 moment I first saw you lying in your crib in that 
 damnable brothel. It was your innocence, your 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 203 
 
 helplessness, as much as your mother's wrongs, your 
 mother's helplessness, that quickened my manhood 
 and turned me to whiter living.' " 
 
 "And the man from whose loins you sprang, 
 whose blood filled your veins, went on his way, ignor- 
 ing your existence, while these two men, Pierre Custis 
 and Paul Nelson, loved you as few fathers love their 
 sons?" said Pelhani, indignantly. "And your mother 
 never disclosed the name of the scoundrel who begot 
 you?" 
 
 "No, but Uncle Pierre has since done so. He did 
 it only two weeks ago, however — the time he was 
 down to the circus. Pelham, do you know who my 
 father is?" 
 
 "I have no idea, Custis. Yet you speak as if I 
 knew him? Do I?" 
 
 "Yes. The man who did all this evil is Frederick 
 Huntington, your father — and mine !" 
 
 "Custis!" cried Pelham, sharply, startled into the 
 attitude of one shot. 
 
 "Custis !" he again exclaimed. "My father, Fred- 
 erick Huntington, and the scoundrel you have been 
 telling me about — are the same man?" 
 
 "I have Uncle Pierre's word for it," was the calm 
 answer. "And there is no appeal from that." 
 
 "I will never, never speak to him again ! I wish 
 to see his face no more, I despise him so thoroughly I 
 The black-hearted scoundrel !" 
 
 "Be cool, little boy! Such feelings do you great 
 credit. They show you to be a clean, justice-loving 
 boy with a terrific contempt for all that is base. But 
 you are a little overheated now. Of course, you will 
 speak to your father again. You will not disown him 
 for my sake." 
 
 "I will ! I will ! You can't keep me from it 
 either !" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I will I" 
 
204 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "You will not, I say ! He is an unmitigated 
 scoundrel, Frederick Huntington is!" 
 
 "I am inclined to the same opinion, Pelliam. But 
 listen, little boy, to what I have to say. H she could 
 forgive him, if I can forgive him — the ones he wronged 
 so grievously — you, his lawful son and his heir, you to 
 whom he has given his honored name, will not with- 
 hold your forgiveness?" 
 
 "Custis, for heaven's sake, don't talk like that! 
 You speak as if a gulf were fixed between us." 
 
 "There is, Pelham." 
 
 "There is not, Custis ! I will not have it so. No 
 gulf, if it were as wide as the universe, could ever 
 divide me from you. I would rather share your name- 
 lessness than bear the name of which you have been 
 robbed. Would to God I had been born out of wed- 
 lock with you ! The fact that I was not makes me 
 loathe myself. I can enjoy nothing, I want nothing 
 that 3'ou are denied. Flonored name ! To the devil 
 with it! It smells of the pit! It reeks with the infamy 
 of hell ! But, Custis ! Custis !" his indignation in a 
 flash giving way to a joy that irradiated all his face. 
 "This makes us brothers, doesn't it?" 
 
 "That's what it does." 
 
 "Oh, Custis ! Custis ! My brother ! My brother ! 
 I am he, the boy vou were talking about?" 
 
 "What boy?" 
 
 "Why, that brother in Hanover?" 
 
 "You are he." 
 
 "And I was getting jealous of myself. Oh, you 
 big kid !" 
 
 And Pelham's arms met in a wild, sutl'ocating 
 clasp around Custis's neck. 
 
 "My own brother! Mine! Mine! Mine!" 
 
 "But not yours to choke to death ! Pelham ! Pel- 
 ham ! You are S(|ueezing the life out of me. 1 can't 
 — get — my — breath ! You little scamp !" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 205 
 
 Pelham uncoiled his arms, laughing gleefully 
 as a little child. 
 
 "You are a naughty boy," said Custis, rising, "to 
 treat your brother so cruelly. Come, let us go to bed 
 now. It is half past 3 o'clock. We are not used to dis- 
 sipating like this." 
 
 "I don't want to go to bed," pouted Pelham. "I 
 couldn't sleep if I went, I am so confoundedly happy. 
 Let's do a few wrestling stunts." 
 
 "A few slumbering stunts will be better for us at 
 this hour," returned Custis, as, with a yawn, he began 
 to undress. "You may tell your sister of this, Pelham. 
 I want her to know all about me." 
 
 "And mother? May I tell her, too?" 
 
 "Not yet. But I want you to tell Virginia. Do 
 you think it will make any difference to her?" 
 
 "No more than it does to me. She will be de- 
 lighted, I know, to learn we are brothers. She will 
 feel as if you were a sort of brother of hers, too." 
 
 "I hope she will have no such feeling." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Oh, I am glad she is your sister, but I am glad 
 she isn't mine." 
 
 "I understand. You wholesome rogue!" 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 "I have just heard from home, and Uncle Pierre 
 writes that they are making big preparations for us. 
 Mammy, however, is causing him anxiety." 
 
 "She isn't ill?" 
 
 "Not physically. It is her spiritual health that 
 gives him concern. He is afraid she has fallen from 
 grace. She no longer sings 'I Would Not Live Always,' 
 but is spinning off ragtime melodies by the yard, 'A Hot 
 Time' being in high favor just now. Think of it !" 
 
 "Really, we don't know who the Lord's anointed 
 are in these days." 
 
 "Indeed, we don't. There seems to be no distin- 
 guishing mark between the sheep and the goats. Say, 
 little brother, there is a possibility — nay, a probability 
 of our taking 'Relius home with us to-morrow." 
 
 "Good!" 
 
 "Yes. Uncle Pierre, you know, has been hard 
 at work for weeks scouring the county for signatures 
 asking the Governor to pardon 'Relius. He has se- 
 cured over six hundred, all bona fide white citizens, 
 too ; many of them our most substantial men, as 
 our property-worshipping conservative friends call the 
 land-owning gentry. Among the signatures are three 
 members of tlie first jury and eight of the second. Be- 
 sides, there are letters from the judges of the County 
 and District Courts, asking that mercy be shown." 
 
 Here Custis handed IVlham the long, bulky en- 
 velope containing the petition and letters nicatiuncd. 
 
 ao6 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 207 
 
 "They ought certainly to carry weight," observed 
 Pelham, as he returned the papers to Custis after an 
 inspection of their contents. 
 
 ''Well, let us see if they will. Now for His Excel- 
 lency's den! There is a car coming. If we are quick 
 we can catch it." 
 
 Half an hour later they were ushered into the 
 presence of the Governor. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," he said, pleasantly, "what can 
 I do for you ?" 
 
 "I would like to have you kindly look over these 
 papers, Governor, and if you can square it with your 
 sense of justice grant the prayer of the petitioners," 
 said Custis, drawing forth the documents and placing 
 them in the hands of Virginia's Executive. 
 
 The Governor began by reading a letter which 
 Dr. Custis had written him in behalf of the prisoner. 
 
 "Yes, I remember the case well, and the interest 
 it excited all over the State. This young mulatto, 
 Perkins, killed Dr. Custis's nephew?" 
 
 Custis bowed assent, and His Excellency opened 
 the letter from the judge of the United States District 
 Court and read it through. 
 
 "Yes, yes," was his monosyllabic comment, 
 which augured hope. 
 
 Next he read the appeal for clemency from the 
 judge of the County Court. Then he looked over the 
 long list of names praying for Aurelius's pardon, and 
 as he refolded the paper he exclaimed : 
 
 _ "Poor fellow! After all, he did only what most 
 white men in his place would have done. Mr. Waller," 
 calling to his private secretary, in the next room, and 
 as that young man made his appearance, he continued : 
 "Please fill out a pardon for Aurelius Perkins, sen- 
 tenced to eighteen years in the penitentiary for the 
 murder of Rutherford Demarest." 
 
 Mr. Waller bowed and withdrew. After the lapse 
 of several minutes he returned and handed the Gov- 
 
2o8 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 ernor a paper, to which the latter affixed his signature. 
 
 "Here you are, my son," he said, handing Custis 
 the document which carried the power to swing open 
 the ponderous prison gates to poor Aurehus. 
 
 "Thank you, Governor, thank you," returned 
 Custis, fecHngly. "We shah ahvays love you for this." 
 
 His Excellency smiled, almost affectionately. He 
 walked between Custis and Pelham to the door, a hand 
 on the shoulder of each boy. 
 
 "Well, we are armed with the autograph that puts 
 an end to our 'Relius's helping to pile up dividends 
 for the Davis Shoe Company of ^Massachusetts," re- 
 marked Custis, as he and Pelham descended the steps 
 of the Capitol. "Now, let us step down to the Western 
 Union office and wire the joyful news up the James." 
 
 The sunlight was warm that Christmas Eve, and 
 the breeze carried the caressing softness of violet time. 
 And because of it. Dr. Custis could not help thinking 
 of another Christmas Eve six years ago — a day of 
 which this was a perfect copy. What glad hearts had 
 he and Custis taken with them to Georgia ! But what 
 sad hearts had they brought back with them to \'ir- 
 ginia ! Poor little Dorothy ! Poor Paul ! How he had 
 loved them ! How they had loved him, had these 
 dear souls from whom the flesh with its limitations had 
 fallen ! And the memory of them as fresh to him as 
 when they had gone away, he put his arm around 
 their little one, who sat beside him in the carriage, 
 and drew her up tenderly to him. 
 
 Opposite to them sat Cindie in her best Shiloh 
 attire. 
 
 "Mammy, you stray from home so seldom, they 
 will all be surprised to see you at Elk Bluff," said the 
 physician. 
 
 "Oh, I knows I gwine be a bigger show dan 'Re- 
 lius hisscf to dcm depo' niggers," was the response. 
 
 Behind the carriage came the buggy, driven by 
 
 i 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 209 
 
 little Garfield Perkins, Aurelius's son, now a lad of 
 seven. His great-grandmother had put on him his 
 best clothes, as she had put on hers, in honor of his 
 father's home-coming. 
 
 Following the buggy rumbled the big farm wagon 
 to carry the baggage of the travelers and those whom 
 the carriage and buggy could not accommodate. 
 
 The news of Aurelius's pardon, wired to Elk 
 Bluff the night before, had traveled with amazing 
 swiftness over the southern half of the county, and 
 the result was a hundred or more of his race, to say 
 nothing of a respectable minority of whites, had gath- 
 ered about the station to meet the 12:30 train from 
 Richmond. Antioch, Hoecake, Custisville, Haddon's 
 Store, Perkins' Precinct, Persimmon Ridge, Wildrose 
 Creek, Ground Squirrel Meeting-PIouse, Shiloh, Mount 
 Pisgah, Sassafras Forks, Maiden's Leap, and even as 
 far away as the courthouse — all had two or more rep- 
 resentatives in the throng. And every shade of black, 
 brown and yellow skin was in evidence ; all the sombre 
 tints from licorice black to calycanthus brown, and all 
 the lighter tints from calycanthus brown to sweet pota- 
 to buff. 
 
 Cindie produced even a greater sensation than she 
 had anticipated. All eyes were turned toward her as 
 the Doctor assisted her out of the carriage. She had 
 just discarded her mourning habiliments for her be- 
 loved Reuben, three years deceased, and looked every 
 inch the "swell nigger" that she was, in a black Hen- 
 rietta skirt and velvet bonnet, adorned with a big 
 bunch of red trumpet flowers, or "cow-itch blooms," 
 as she insisted they were. 
 
 "I is jes' drippin' wid perspiration, I is so mortally 
 hot," she exclaimed, as she unbuttoned her cloak, dis- 
 closing a shirtwaist of lavender silk elaborately puffed. 
 
 Dr. Custis failed to detect a single globule of the 
 perspiration of which she had complained, and smiled 
 significantly, knowing the vanity of woman even down 
 
210 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 to old age. It was the lavender waist with its numer- 
 ous puffs, and not the perspiration, that had caused 
 Cindie's cloak to come apart. 
 
 "Is dat you, Sis Cindie?" cried Aunt Millie 
 Bowles, rushing up with outstretched arms. "Fo' Je- 
 sus, I didn't know you at fust, you so spruced up. 
 Whar you come fum, nigger?" 
 
 And Aunt Millie slapped her lips on Cindie's with 
 a violence of love that was heard to the remotest edge 
 of the crowd, and Cindie, who was as genuinely glad 
 to see Aunt Millie, returned the kiss with a violence 
 as resounding. 
 
 "Go long, Millie Bowles ! I ain't no mo' spruced 
 up dan what you is," grinned Cindie. "You jes' talkin' 
 to heah yo'sef talk." 
 
 And Cindie and Millie both laughed hilariously, 
 like the happy, ignorant souls that they were. They 
 were lifelong friends, were these two old black women. 
 They had been "girls together," sisters in Shiloh meet- 
 ing-house for over half a century. 
 
 "You is hearn 'bout 'Relius', Sis Millie?" 
 
 "Yes, chile. Dat's what brung me way to Elk 
 Bluff, and all dese udder niggers, too, I lay. When 
 Jeems he come in las' night and tole me de news, I riz 
 up in bed, I did, chile, and thanked Ole Marster den 
 and dar dat my pra'rs done bin answered." 
 
 "It's all Marse Pierre's and de chile's doings," 
 said Cindie. 
 
 "But de Lawd he was back of 'cm, dey was only 
 de instruments in His hands," rejoined Aunt Millie, 
 who scented in Cindie's words an attack on the efficacy 
 of prayer, when really Cindie intended nothing of the 
 kind. But Aunt Millie, much as she loved Cindie. was 
 exasperatingly orthodox, even to believing in "hell- 
 fire and brimstone" — "de naked stuff itself." to use 
 her words — and she had caught the alarm felt in com- 
 mon by all the "Shiloh niggers" that mammy's 
 
 I 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 211 
 
 orthodoxy would hardly pull her through "de jedg- 
 ment." 
 
 'T does hope to Gawd dis'll prove a lesson to dat 
 boy," said Cindie, "and dat he won't take up wid no 
 mo' yaller niggers." 
 
 "Ain't you hearn nuffin from Em'line lately?" 
 asked Aunt Millie. 
 
 "How come I know anything 'bout dat yaller 
 wench? I knows dis dough: She commoner dan jim- 
 son weed wharever she is." 
 
 "Maybe she done made a perfession and de Lawd 
 done wash away her sins," suggested the charitably- 
 inclined Mrs. Bowles, a touch of rebuke in her voice. 
 
 "Perfession !" repeated mammy scornfully. "What 
 dat amount to wid niggers, or white folks, for dat 
 matter? But my mind is on niggers now. Dey always 
 pizen meaner arter dey perfess, seem like to me, dan 
 'fo' dey perfess. Didn't dat yaller wench make a per- 
 fession jes' 'fo' she done what she done? Is you clar 
 done forgit, Alillie Bowles, all dat racket whar she 
 kick up down at Shiloh when we was holdin' dat 'tract- 
 ed meetin' de spring 'fo' 'Relius kilt dat boy? Don't 
 you rick'lic' how she raised de roof of de church most 
 off by dem hallelujah hollers of hern, how she squeal 
 out and squeal out dat de Lawd done took her feet 
 out de miry clay and sot 'em on de Rock of Ages, and 
 how she lept up like a yaller jacket done stung her 
 and tore her ole nigger wool most outen her head 
 and how it took all de muscle whar Brer Jasper and 
 Brer Jeems Jurdan and Brer Ebenezer Harris had 
 'tween 'em ter keep dat nigger fum tearing her close 
 offen her back? Whar's yo' mem'ry, nigger, dat you 
 fergit hist'ry so easy?" 
 
 Dr. Custis, holding Virginia's hand, stood talking 
 with the keeper of the general merchandise store so 
 long run by Mr. Hardie, who had sold out recently and 
 followed Ben to Richmond. 
 
 "Did you ever see such a gang of niggers at Elk 
 
212 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Bluff?" asked the merchant. "You'd think there was 
 an excursion to Lynchburg, Natural Bridge or some- 
 where up the road. There's the train!" 
 
 The Hardies were the first to alight. After them 
 came Pelham, and then Custis, with 'Relius holding 
 pathetically to his coat ends. 
 
 "'Relius, my boy! Welcome home!" was Dr. 
 Custis's cheery greeting. 
 
 The tender tones, the warm hand-clasp at once 
 dispelled the mulatto's embarrassment, and in his joy 
 at beholding his beloved master again, he seized the 
 soft, white hand, ever stretched in loving-kindness to 
 others, and fell to kissing it, as he had kissed the hand 
 of Custis when the boy came to him in prison and told 
 him he had come to take him home. 
 
 And when Cindie had embraced him, a comely, 
 yellow youngster stood looking up timidly into his face. 
 He knew instinctively that the child was of his flesh, 
 and without a word he stooped and brought the lad 
 up to his heart and his lips. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Dr. Custis, with Virginia, entered the train and 
 walked slowly thrqugh the crowded car. 
 
 "Here is a seat, dear," said a beautiful girl with 
 eyes of brown, closing a copy of Tolstoy's "Resur- 
 rection," and gently drawing the little girl toward her. 
 
 The physician lifted his hat in acknowledgment of 
 the kindness shown the child, and the little one sank 
 down beside the young lady. 
 
 "Those are lovely roses you have," said the latter. 
 
 Virginia looked over the bunch, and, selecting 
 three of the finest, laid them in the lap of the young 
 lady. 
 
 "Are these for me?" 
 
 The child smiled affirmatively. 
 
 "Oh, thank you — thank you very much." 
 
 "You are welcome. I'd give you all of them, only 
 I want to take some to Brother — and a friend." 
 
 "You are very generous, dear. Perhaps I ought 
 not to take these from you." 
 
 "Oh, I can spare those. I want you to have them." 
 
 She looked up in the young lady's face with a 
 smile of admiration ; then her eyes fell upon the great 
 Russian novel. 
 
 "Do you like that book ?" she asked. 
 
 " 'Resurrection,' you mean ?" said the young lady, 
 picking up the volume and turning its leaves mechan- 
 ically. "Yes, I am deeply interested in it." 
 
 "Brother sent a copy of it to Uncle Pierre, and 
 Uncle Pierre sat up all night reading it." 
 
 213 
 
214 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Is that gentleman your Uncle Pierre ?" lowering 
 her voice. 
 
 "That's my Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "And he sat up all night reading this book, did 
 he? It must indeed have got a great hold on him." 
 
 "It did. It's the first time he has done such a 
 thing in years, and when he wrote Brother what he 
 had done, Brother wrote him that he wasn't to do it 
 again. Brother doesn't think it good for his health." 
 
 The young lady laughed. 
 
 "You love your brother and Uncle Pierre very 
 much, it seems?" 
 
 "I love the very ground they walk on ; but I love 
 other people too. I am not so selfish that I can love 
 only two people at a time." 
 
 "Who are some of the other people you love ?" 
 
 "First comes Pelham." 
 
 "Pelham?" 
 
 "Why, yes, Pelham Huntington. Oh, he is a 
 sivcct boy! He lives in New York, but he goes to Rich- 
 mond College with Brother. They are chums." 
 
 "And you love Pelham, do you?" 
 
 "Of course I do — next to Brother and Uncle 
 Pierre. He is — my sweetheart," and the little thing 
 blushed very prettily. "I don't mind telling you 
 this," she added, "because you don't know him." 
 
 "Vineyard Slope ! Vineyard Slope !" 
 
 The train presently "slow^ed up" at the station 
 suggestive of wine and hills, and a Avoman with a 
 basket, tin bucket, umbrella and colTee pot made her 
 way to the platform. Dr. Custis gallantly assisted her 
 with her burdens, and, returning, took the seat she 
 and her possessions had vacated. It was immediately 
 in front of the seat occupied by Virginia and her new 
 friend, and the physician had barely seated himself 
 when the young lady touched him on the arm. 
 
 "Pardon me," she said sweetly, "but I can't keep 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 215 
 
 silent a second longer. I know who you are as well 
 as if you had told me. You are — Dr. Custis." 
 
 "And you ?" looking full into the fresh, lovely face 
 of the girl. "You — you are Miss Yancey, Pelham's 
 sister?" 
 
 "Virginia Yancey — yes." 
 
 "This is delightful, positively it is!" he exclaimed. 
 "I have longed for this moment," he added, his hand 
 closing warmly over hers. 
 
 "And my desire to know you has been as strong. 
 Uncle Pierre. There, it is out. But I am not going 
 to apologize. Pelhani calls you Uncle Pierre. Why 
 can't I, too?" 
 
 "There is no reason in the world why you can't, 
 my dear. I would love to have you call me Uncle 
 Pierre, as Custis and Pelham do. I am Uncle Pierre 
 to those who love me the most." 
 
 "And Pelham is one of them. He adores you, 
 does the dear child." 
 
 "And his love is fully returned. He is very dear 
 to me, is the little chap. He has the gentleness, the 
 purity, the unselfishness that make my own boy so 
 lovable. Isn't the love between him and Custis a beau- 
 tiful thing?" 
 
 "I know of nothing so beautiful save the love 
 between you and Custis." 
 
 "Doesn't it look as if the hand of God were shap- 
 ing things? Of course, you know all — I mean about 
 Custis?" leaning closer to her and lowering his voice. 
 
 "Yes. Pelham wrote me." 
 
 Here Virginia touched Miss Yancey on the arm. 
 
 "Are you Pelham's sister?" 
 
 "Yes, dear, but your secret is safe. You are going 
 down to the com.mencement, I presume ?" turning again 
 to Dr. Custis. 
 
 "Yes. Custis gets his M. A. Thursday. Besides, 
 I want to hear his valedictory. Pelham wrote me that 
 
2i6 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 you and your mother would visit Ricliiiioud about 
 commencement time." 
 
 "Mother is already there. We came South to- 
 gether as far as Washington. She went on to Rich- 
 mond and I went to Lynchburg to attend the marriage 
 of a friend." 
 
 Custis and Pelham were at the station to meet 
 Dr. Custis, and as he stepped from the train the 
 youngsters each in turn seized and kissed him, and 
 little Virginia came in for like treatment. 
 
 "Boys, I have with me another Virginia," said 
 the Doctor, as he handed Miss Yancey from the train. 
 
 "Why, Virginia !" exclaimed Pelham. "We didn't 
 expect you until 7:30. You didn't write what route 
 you were going to take, and we concluded you were 
 coming over the N. & W." 
 
 "Aren't you glad to see me if I didn't come over 
 the N. & W. ?" 
 
 "Of course I am ! You heavenly girl !" 
 
 And the affectionate boy's arm was around his 
 sister's neck in an instant, and his lips on hers. 
 
 "What have you been doing to yourself, dear?" 
 she asked. "I hardly knew you. You are positively 
 robust. And your cheeks are pink enough to bite." 
 
 "It is all Custis's work. He has had me in hand 
 for nine months. Custis, you big kid ! Come here 
 this instant and speak to my sister !" 
 
 And the "big kid" approached the girl with a smile 
 and a hand outstretched. 
 
 "Custis!" 
 
 "Virginia!" 
 
 It was a simple greeting, like that of two swcct- 
 hcartcd children who disdain conventionalism's way 
 of doing things. 
 
 "Wasn't it delightful — my meeting L^nclc Pierre 
 and Virginia on the train?" she asked. 
 
 He smiled assent. 
 
 "We are already chums, Uncle Pierre and I," she 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 217 
 
 continued, laughing deliciously, "and I am as ready 
 now to swear by him as are you and Pelham," 
 
 "Remember Jesus — and Tolstoy, his lonely dis- 
 ciple, and swear not at all," said Pelham, facetiously. 
 
 "By the way," she exclaimed, "I left my copy of 
 'Resurrection' on the train." 
 
 "I'll get it for you," said Custis, and he darted 
 away, while Pelham scampered off to look after her 
 baggage. 
 
 Presently Custis returned with the novel. 
 
 "When you have finished the book I want you to 
 tell me what you think of it," he said. 
 
 "You think it a great work, Pelham wrote me?" 
 
 "It is not a pleasant work, but it is a great one. 
 Its ethical vigor alone makes it great. Uncle Pierre 
 is of the sam.e opinion." 
 
 "Yes," said the Doctor. "Tolstoy, in my opinion, 
 has done his best w^ork in 'Resurrection.' His indict- 
 ment of civilization and official Christianity is terrific. 
 Yes, it is a powerful book, and its power is the more 
 manifest by contrast with the historical novels with 
 wdiich we have been deluged since the war between 
 Roosevelt and Spain." 
 
 "Alleged historical novels," said Custis. 
 
 "I accept your amendment," bowed the Doctor. 
 
 "The book involved me in a funny little experience 
 soon after I left Lynchburg," said Virginia. "Some 
 old lady of evangelistic turn of mind assailed m.e sav- 
 agely for reading such a book." 
 
 "Is that so?" cried Custis. "And she didn't even 
 knov/ you?" 
 
 "I had never seen her before." 
 
 "She was wanting in good manners, to say the: 
 least." 
 
 "These self-constituted guardians of other peo- 
 ple's morals and religion are invariably ill-bred," said 
 Dr. Custis. "And what did the old soul-saver say to 
 you, dear?" 
 
2i8 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "She asked me if I knew the character of the hook 
 I was reading. I repHed that I thought I did, and 
 then I asked her the same question sh.e had put to me. 
 She hadn't read it, she said, and nothing could induce 
 her to read it ; but she had heard the book denounced 
 as unfit to read. Tolstoy was a dangerous and wicked 
 writer, she declared : a blasphemer, an infidel, a reviler 
 of Christ and Christianity. To all this I simply an- 
 swered that he was one of the few men in the world 
 who really took Jesus at his word, who didn't treat 
 God as a joke." 
 
 '"Good for you !" cried Custis, clapping his 
 hands. "And what did she say to that?" 
 
 "Why, she called her 'sacrilegious,' " said the 
 physician. 
 
 "That's what she did," laughed ]Miss Yancey. 
 
 "I knew it. That is the little stone these old pious 
 shams always carry about with them to hurl at you 
 when you put them to shame." 
 
 Here Pelham returned. 
 
 "Well, Mrginia, I have attended to everything, 
 and we'll move up town if you are ready. Uncle 
 Pierre, if the Hardies weren't expecting you, I would 
 make you go along with us, and, Custis, "slapping his 
 brother on the arm, "I would make you go, too, if it 
 weren't that Uncle Pierre hadn't seen you since Christ- 
 mas. But we'll all be together again tomorrow and 
 every day while we are in Richmond. Oh, the pic- 
 nics ahead !" 
 
 Custis walked with A'irginia to the cab and handed 
 her in. Pelham sprang in after her and kissed his 
 hand to the loved ones left behind. Then the cab 
 rolled swiftly toward the JciTerson, where Mrs. Hunt- 
 ington was staying. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The hour was midnight, and Pierre Custis, ac- 
 counted an infidel by churchHngs, knelt in ecstatic 
 communion with God. He was close to the heart of 
 the Infinite that night, was this half-rationalist, half- 
 mystic. The arms of the Infinite enwreathed him, and, 
 filled with "the peace that passeth all understanding," 
 he was as one out of the flesh until he felt the caressing 
 touch of Custis, and, looking up, beheld the boy. 
 
 'T didn't hear you come in, son." 
 
 'T came in as quietly as possible, thinking you 
 were asleep." 
 
 "You are just from the presence of Virginia?" 
 said the physician, as he rose and proceeded to light 
 the gas. 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "She is a beautiful girl, Custis — beautiful after 
 the flesh and beautiful after the spirit. I love the 
 child." 
 
 "I would think it strange, Uncle Pierre, if you 
 didn't love her." 
 
 "My son, I am very happy to-night. I was not 
 half as happy on the night of my graduation as I am 
 on this the night of yours." 
 
 "That is easily explained, Uncle Pierre. You have 
 lived for me. You love me with a love 'passing the love 
 of women.' Hence my happiness is yours, my tri- 
 umphs are yours, as are also my sorrows and my 
 failures." 
 
 2x9 
 
220 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "How perfectly you untlcrstand mc! You have 
 always understood nie, even from a little child — under- 
 stood me as nobody else ever did. That address of 
 yours to-night, son," after a pause, "was a great 
 effort. It was an inspiration, my boy. God bless 
 you !" 
 
 The two men stood looking at each other with 
 wet eyes. 
 
 "Nothing like it had ever been heard within 
 those old college walls before," continued the Doctor. 
 "How it stirred everybody ! The most callous, the most 
 shallow came completely under your spell. I was 
 never in all my life so proud of my little chap. Vir- 
 ginia, too, was proud of you. I could read it in her 
 face. She had eyes only for your face, ears only for 
 your voice. And when you came to us afterward, 
 crowned with the highest honors your abjia mater 
 could confer upon you, I watched her, and her face 
 was as radiant as an angel's. It glowed with her 
 belief in you. And when you walked away with her, 
 the sight of you two beautiful young things going out 
 into the June night together made me happier than 
 even you or she could have been. I thought it the 
 divinest picture I had ever seen. I brought her flowers 
 up for you. See them ?" 
 
 "Aren't they beautiful ?" exclaimed the youngster, 
 imbedding his nostrils in the basket of roses. "But 
 where are your flowers and Pelham's and Ben's and 
 all the others I got? Where are yours, Uncle Pierre?" 
 
 "Down in the parlor, all the flowers you got ex- 
 cept those from Virginia. You can see them and 
 enjoy them all to-morrow. These — Virginia's gift — 
 come first." 
 
 "Why didn't you bring yours up, even if you left 
 the others below — yours with hers?" 
 
 "Because I must decrease as she increases. But 
 I would not have it otherwise. It is as it should be." 
 
 "Don't talk like that, Uncle Pierre. It hurts to 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 221 
 
 the core of me. I do love Virginia. I have loved her 
 since I was a boy. But my love for her in nowise 
 conflicts v/ith my love for you. That love will burn 
 through all eternity. I love you as no son ever loved 
 his father, as no brother ever loved his brother. I love 
 you as the boy John loved Jesus, only more steadfastly. 
 For I know I could never desert you in Gethsemane ; I 
 know I could never sleep if you were in anguish and 
 needed me." 
 
 The physician, stirred to the depths of him, caught 
 the boy's hand ; but he could not speak. 
 
 "Should you ever have to pass through Gethse- 
 mane," resumed Custis, "the boy you love will be with 
 you, loyal, loving, suffering all you suffer. And 
 should the way lead to Calvary your little chap will 
 be there, too, asking to be crucified with you. Perish 
 the thought of your decreasing ! On the contrary, you 
 will increase, you shall increase, as the years go by. 
 If you should go first (God forbid!) your memory 
 shall be as fragrant to me as was the memory of Jesus 
 to John. My children shall know of you, of all you 
 were to me, to others, and to the world — and to their 
 children and their children's children your name shall 
 be handed down as a thing sacred and sweet." 
 
 They had strolled as far as the river and were 
 returning to Reservoir Park through a stretch of cool 
 woods with the freshness of the morning still upon 
 the trees. 
 
 "So you have decided to round up at Yale?" she 
 said. 
 
 "Yes. You and Uncle Pierre, your mother and 
 Pelham — four against one — were too much for me. I 
 had to surrender." 
 
 "There was nothing else for you to do." 
 
 She stooped and plucked a lone daisy that caressed 
 her skirt, while he brushed aside the bough of a sweet 
 gum that leaned presumptuously toward her face. 
 
222 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "And we shall see nothing of you and Pelham be- 
 fore the summer is over?" 
 
 "Not before the first of September. I want to 
 spend as much time as possible with Uncle Pierre, I 
 have been with him so little of my college life." 
 
 "He feels your absence deeply, I know, he loves 
 you so." 
 
 "Yes, and I am as lonely away from him. I want 
 to go to Yale, Virginia, as much as you want me to go. 
 Yet I can't feel right about it." 
 
 "Why shouldn't you?" 
 
 He did not answer at once, and she repeated the 
 question. 
 
 "Because," he began, hesitatingly, "because — 
 well, to be plain, I feel as if Uncle Pierre had done 
 enough for me ! Oh, Virginia ! Virginia !" he broke 
 out, "you know not the hundredth part of Uncle 
 Pierre's grandeur of soul. When I look upon the aver- 
 age man — a vulgar, self -centered animal is all that he 
 is — and then look upon Pierre Custis. so divinely 
 fibered that he feels all the hurts of humanity as if they 
 were his own, I can understand the sentiment in the 
 early Church which culminated in electing Jesus to 
 co-equality with God." 
 
 "Yes, he was so superhumanly unselfish that the 
 people were amazed, and his disciples understood it as 
 little as did the others. And so they made Him God 
 as the only explanation of it." 
 
 A bend in the road brought them to some boys 
 ruthlessly stripping a mulberry of its fruit. 
 
 "Yes, it will be the first of September before you 
 see us in New York," said Custis, resuming the con- 
 versation. "That will give me a fortnight or more 
 to see something of your huge, ugly city ; to meet the 
 leading Socialist spirits and to get in touch with the 
 movement. I will offer my services as speaker. I 
 think I can manage to run down from New I laven two 
 or three evenings a week while the campaign is on." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 223 
 
 "So you will identify yourself with the Social 
 Democratic Party?" 
 
 "Certainly. I am thoroughly out of patience with 
 these silly/ half-grown Socialists who dream of reach- 
 ing the co-operative commonwealth by any such route 
 as 16 to I, free trade or anti-imperialism. Oh, I am 
 sick — so sick of Bryanism! For what is it? What 
 does it stand for? It is the envious wail of the little 
 shopkeeper beaten at his own game of competition. 
 It is the stupid cry of the farmer who refuses to go 
 deeper than the tariff or the currency for the cause of 
 his ills. This is all that there is to Bryanism, and for 
 the life of me I can't see why any man calling himself 
 a Socialist can longer cling to such a movement, now 
 that there is in the field a party which stands for adult 
 socialism — the full-flowered Marxian article. O listen 
 to that mocking-bird, Virginia ! Surely, a creature that 
 can sing so divinely must have a soul !" 
 
 "Its notes are divine !" she exclaimed. 
 
 And they were silent until the bird ceased singing. 
 Then Custis spoke again : 
 
 "In 1896, when Mr. Bryan was first nominated, 
 Uncle Pierre and I were swept off our feet by what 
 we mistook, along with so many others, for an uprising 
 of the people which would culminate in socialism. 
 But we were soon destined to see our mistake, to realize 
 that socialism can never come through either of the 
 two old parties ; that the only way to bring it about is 
 to work for it through a party of our own — a party of 
 uncompromising, clean-cut Socialists who know where 
 they are." 
 
 The speaker removed a caterpillar from his cuff. 
 
 "There is one also on your shoulder, making for 
 your neck," said Virginia, "Bend down a little and 
 I'll brush it off." 
 
 And she did it with a heroism which argued that 
 she could have confronted a mouse as bravely. 
 
 "Pelham is with me, heart and soul," said Custisi 
 
224 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "He is all afire with enthusiasm. I have no doubt that 
 before the campaign is over he will have joined the 
 ranks of socialist orators. You are with us, aren't 
 you, Virginia?" 
 
 "Yes, heartily," she answered. "If I were not, I 
 should feel myself a traitor to Truth. I, too, was 
 carried away on the wave of Bryanism four years ago, 
 but I have lived to repent my mistake, as you and Uncle 
 Pierre have done." 
 
 "It does me good to hear you talk so, Virginia — 
 you who have every reason, from the earthling's point 
 of view, to be selfish and conservative, to train with the 
 oppressors of the people. Women are provokingly 
 conservative. Politically, they are nonentities, like 
 parrots, voicing the opinions of their fathers, hus- 
 bands, or brothers. You are unlike any other girl I 
 ever knew. Your courage, your breadth of vision, 
 your depth of tenderness for the disinherited, make 
 you magnificent in my eyes. Other women beside you 
 appear to me so colorless, with their little aims and 
 large prejudices. You are a glorious girl, Virginia ! 
 Why are there so few women like you ?" 
 
 She lifted to him her wondrous eyes of brown, 
 like pansies in their vclvetincss. 
 
 "And why are there so few men like you, virile, 
 tender, clean, loving right above life, others above self? 
 I have never known anything so beautiful as this glad 
 giving of yourself for your fellows. And you have so 
 imbued me with your spirit that I can accept no other 
 interpretation of life but yours. To reject it would be 
 to crucify the God within me." 
 
 "Virginia ! Sweetheart !" 
 
 He caught her hand, and they paused in the un- 
 sunned path where the ferns llourished and unnum- 
 bered wild red roses flung their fragrance to breezes 
 breathing of brooks. 
 
 "I love you, Virginia! I love you, sweetheart!" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 225 
 
 "And I love you, Custis ! How can I help it ? You 
 big, beautiful boy !" 
 
 He ran his arm around her. She lifted her lips 
 to meet his, and the two young mouths, clean as clover, 
 drifted into a long, rapturous kiss. 
 
 ^ ^ yii ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 On their return to Reservoir Park they found Dr. 
 Custis and Mrs. Huntington seated under the mimosa 
 trees where they had left them an hour ago. 
 
 "Well, young tramps, have you shown up at last?" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Huntington. "You delicious boy !" 
 she added, closing her hand over Custis's and smiling 
 up at him. "Where have you been? Tell us all about 
 it now." 
 
 "We strolled as far as the New Pumphouse." 
 
 "Which means as far as Three-Mile Locks, 
 translated into the language of tow-path days. Pierre," 
 turning to the sweetheart of her school days, "do you 
 remember that picnic we had one Easter at Three- 
 Mile Locks ?" 
 
 "Do I ? Easter never comes that it doesn't bring 
 up memories of that day," replied the Doctor, with a 
 reminiscent smile. 
 
 "And do you remember, Pierre, that big catfish 
 I caught?" 
 
 "It was a monster, as catfish go." 
 
 "Indeed, it was. It was all I could do to land 
 the hideous thing." 
 
 "Uncle Pierre," exclaimed Virginia, "do you 
 know that mother is prouder of having caught that old 
 catfish than all the other things she ever caught, her 
 two husbands included ? She carries a big head to this 
 day because of that James River catfish she hooked 
 thirty Easters ago. Other people have caught catfish, 
 mother. Oh, we had a divine walk, Custis and I !" 
 seizing Mrs. Huntington's cheeks between her palms. 
 "Didn't we, Custis?" 
 
 "I never enjoyed a walk more. You and Uncle 
 
226 REBELS OF THE XEW SOUTH 
 
 Pierre ought to have been \Yith us, IMrs. Huntington. 
 We wished for you, didn't we, Virginia ?" 
 
 "Pierre," said Mrs. Huntington, "do you beheve 
 that boy for one moment? If you do, I don't. Custis, 
 honey, you must not tell stories, even from a desire to 
 make old folks feel good." 
 
 "Really, I wasn't fibbing, Mrs. Huntington. Was 
 I, Virginia?" 
 
 "Don't appeal to Virginia! I know all about it. 
 I have been there myself. Just listen to those other 
 youngsters ! It looks as if they were going the way of 
 you older kids." 
 
 "Where are they? On the lake?" asked Custis. 
 
 "Yes. Pierre and I were watching them just 
 before you and Virginia came back. Pelham can 
 handle an oar, can't he?" 
 
 "He can indeed." 
 
 "What a change has come over the child! I am 
 delighted to see the things he can do. He used to be 
 so shy and timid, poor little fellow. He didn't seem to 
 care for the society of his own sex at all until you 
 came into his life. It is marvelous — the man you 
 are building out of him. He called us into his room 
 the other evening when he was stripped for his even- 
 ing exercises, and, really, I gasped for admiration. His 
 arms, his legs, his back, his calves — they are all just 
 beautiful ! He is growing into a little Hercules." 
 
 "Such billows of muscle !" exclaimed Virginia. 
 "He frightened me, he looked so strong." 
 
 Here the laughter of the youngster whom they 
 were discussing floated musically over the water and 
 through the trees, and the next moment the gleeful 
 laughter of little Virginia blended joyously with Pel- 
 ham's. 
 
 "Those kids are enjoying themselves, that's ob- 
 vious," remarked Custis. 
 
 And he and Virginia, on a half-run, sought the 
 lake. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 22y 
 
 Pelham, seeing them, shouted ktstily across the 
 water and rowed rapidly toward the shore. 
 
 "Get a boat, Custis, and join us, you and Vir- 
 ginia." 
 
 "How do you vote on the question, sweetheart?" 
 
 "Aye!" 
 
 And when Dr. Custis and Mrs. Huntington came 
 after a while to look for them they were away out on 
 the lake cornering as much fun as were Pelham and 
 Virginia U. ^ 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 It was an eager multitude that overflowed 
 Cooper Union that evening — a multitude made up 
 for the most part of the world's drudges and slaves, 
 the same class that centuries ago had heard with 
 gladness the young Revolutionist of Nazareth. 
 These common people of to-day had gathered as 
 gladly to hear a young revolutionist who had come 
 up out of Dixie — a land as much despised by some 
 as was Nazareth, where Jesus was brought up. 
 
 Every seat was filled, and one could have 
 counted hundreds to whom the fatigue of standing 
 was lost in the anticipation of hearing the "Boy 
 from Dixie," whose thorough knowledge of so- 
 cialism and winsome way of presenting it had al- 
 ready endeared him to the thoughtful among the 
 proletariat and quickened to social righteousness 
 many long dead in their political trespasses and sins. 
 
 On the Saturday night before he had run down 
 to Brooklyn to speak before an immense throng that 
 filled Park Theatre up to the gallery of the "un- 
 washed." On this the Saturday evening before 
 election he had left his studies to make another 
 appeal to the wealth-creators to unite and strike for 
 industrial freedom. 
 
 Promptly at 8 o'clock Custis walked on the 
 stage, accompanied by Virginia and Pelham, who 
 had both openly espoused the cause of the Social 
 Democratic Party. The ovation the young South- 
 
 238 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 229 
 
 erner received was tremendous and prolonged, and 
 when at length it subsided, the chairman, a young 
 man of attractive personality himself, introduced the 
 "Boy from Dixie" in language like this: 
 
 "It is my privilege and my delight to present 
 to you the speaker of the evening — a young comrade 
 who, in the few weeks he has been among us, has 
 completely won our hearts, not only because of his 
 masterful and eloquent exposition of socialism, but 
 also because of his virile youth, his white life, his 
 splendid audacity. While most of his classmates 
 at old Yale are shouting themselves hoarse for the 
 nominees of the party that stands for the economics 
 and the ethics of Nero, and a small minority of 
 them, in the face of the arrogant majority, are on 
 the side of Democracy in its impotent efforts to 
 rescue the fast disappearing middle class from ex- 
 tinction — this boy, with the courage of a god, lays 
 his wealth of youth, of intellect, of character, upon 
 the altar of Socialism, the religion of humanity. It 
 is unnecessary to say more. Comrades and friends, 
 the honor is mine to present to you Comrade Chris- 
 tian of Old Virginia." 
 
 Custis had just finished his weekly letter to Dr. 
 Custis, or "Saturday budget," as Pelham facetiously 
 dubbed it. 
 
 "Ten minutes past two o'clock!" he exclaimed, 
 looking at his watch. "Four hours beyond the Holly 
 Hill bed hour ! Ah, well ! One can't expect to retire 
 every night with the birds in this strenuous town." 
 
 He arose, stretching himself. 
 
 "I think I'll turn in now," he muttered. "I am 
 tired — positively tired. Why, who can that be?" 
 looking toward the door on which some one had 
 rapped. "Everybody in the house has been asleep 
 for two hours or more." 
 
230 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Here came another rap, slightly louder than 
 the first. 
 
 "All right, my friend," he responded, and he 
 sprang forward and opened the door. He drew 
 back, surprised. His father stood before him. 
 
 "Pardon my presumption, and at this unsea- 
 sonable hour," began Mr. Huntington. "It is the 
 first time I have been guilty of anything of the kind 
 since you have been visiting the house." 
 
 "It is I, perhaps, who am the presumptuous 
 party rather than you," returned Custis, flushing. 
 
 "Not so. You come as the guest of Mrs. Hunt- 
 ington and her children. It is her house. Besides, 
 I have learned of the difficulty they had in over- 
 coming your delicacy about coming here because 
 of my presence. For this reason I have not sought 
 to embarrass you in any way, studiously absenting 
 myself whenever I knew you were coming. Never- 
 theless, I have longed to be near you. to talk with 
 you, and the opportunity presenting itself to-night, 
 I could not resist it." 
 
 "Come in, Mr. Huntington," said Custis, dig- 
 nifiedly. 
 
 Fred Huntington bowed in acknowledgment of 
 the invitation, and, entering the room, sank into the 
 seat offered him by his son. 
 
 "Are you through your letter-writing?" he 
 asked, glancing at the bulky letter addressed to Dr. 
 Custis, which Custis had left on his desk. 
 
 "For to-night I am," replied Custis. 
 
 "Is that boy asleep?" continued the elder man, 
 looking toward the door which connected the rooms 
 of his sons. 
 
 Pclham had left the door ajar, as was his wont. 
 
 Custis glided across the room and closed it. 
 
 "You have made a man of him," observed Hunt- 
 ington, as Custis sat down, facing him. "There is 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 231 
 
 little or none of the Sissie in him now. I am almost 
 proud of the boy." 
 
 "He has always been a boy to be proud of. He 
 has never been a Sissy. You have wronged him 
 deeply. You simply didn't understand the little 
 chap, and you didn't seek to do it. Instinctively he 
 felt the injustice you did him, and he shrank from 
 you, refusing to be understood." 
 
 "You and he are very fond of each other?" 
 
 "Why shouldn't we be? We are one in 
 thought." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "There is no stronger tie than that of affinity. 
 All friendships that endure, all loves that last, spring 
 from affinity. Repudiated by my own father, I 
 found a father in a stranger. To-day that man and 
 I are as nearly one as it is possible for two souls 
 to be. It is affinity, not consanguinity, that makes 
 this oneness. I would not exchange the love of 
 Pierre Custis for the loves of a hundred fathers, and 
 I am speaking of the average father, who confesses 
 his son before the world — not the unnatural father, 
 who, like the barnyard cock, begets but to disown." 
 
 The plutocrat winced. The young agitator had 
 given him a thrust that cut keenly. 
 
 "Custis!" 
 
 There was appeal in his voice. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Huntington?" 
 
 "I wish — I wish you wouldn't address me like 
 that. It strikes my heart like ice, as if I were noth- 
 ing to you." 
 
 "What would you have me call you? Surely 
 not by your Christian name? That would be most 
 presumptuous of me, a chap young enough to be 
 your son, and, worse still, a chap who had to fall 
 back on his mother for a name, because, with her, 
 his father had denied him his." 
 
 "My God, boy ! Don't taunt me like that !" 
 
232 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 He caught Custis's hand. The boy's first im- 
 pulse was to snatch it away, but he let it remain 
 passive in his father's, while the latter went on : 
 
 "I swear to you, Custis, it would be the proud- 
 est day of my life to acknowledge you as my son 
 before the world, to be able to point to you and 
 say. That's my boy!' But you know how things 
 stand. I could not do it without compromising you 
 in the eyes of society." 
 
 "And not yourself as well ?" 
 
 "No, it would not compromise me, but it would 
 you, my son. Of course, it looks damned hard; it 
 is all wrong. But you know how the world is, how 
 it looks at things." 
 
 "I know! I know! And my mother, too, had 
 cause to know! She drank to the dregs of its 
 damnable cruelty." 
 
 Huntington winced again. 
 
 Custis smiled bitterly through the tears that 
 the memory of his mother had brought to his eyes. 
 
 "Then you concede the injustice of society — 
 the hellish injustice of it — when it would have no 
 condemnation for you, the criminal, but would visit 
 on me, your innocent ofifspring, the penalty of your 
 crime? You it would smile upon; me it would 
 ostracize, if our relationship were known. This, I 
 take it, is what you mean by compromising me?" 
 
 "Yes, and I admit it is unjust — hellishly un- 
 just — as you would put it. But it can't be helped. 
 It is the way of society." 
 
 "To the devil with society I T am not asking 
 anything of society. I am not cringing at its doors 
 for admission. What do I care for Nero's fiddlers? 
 I have chosen the better way. I have cast my lot 
 with the ones whom society oppresses, exploits, 
 robs, murders; with the men, women and children 
 who slave their lives away in mine and field, fac- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 233 
 
 tory and sweatshop, that your class may revel in 
 luxury and wantonness." 
 
 "All that's very pretty talk, my son, and you 
 feel every word of it now. But time and a conserva- 
 tive environment can be relied upon to cure you." 
 
 "Cure me of what?" 
 
 "Why, your virulent case of socialistic rabies." 
 
 "What do you take me for?" 
 
 "A most marvelous youngster, clever and 
 charming beyond any other person I know. Can I 
 say more?" Then, after a pause: "I heard your 
 speech in Cooper Union to-night, Custis." 
 
 "You did?" betraying surprise. 
 
 "I heard your speech also in Brooklyn last Sat- 
 urday night. I have heard you every time you have 
 spoken in Greater New York. While I take no stock 
 in your socialistic fallacies, I love your voice. It 
 thrills, it touches me as no music does. Your chaste 
 English and your wonderful command of it — this, 
 too, is delightful. Your youth, your fire, your 
 beauty conspire to make you irresistible to your 
 father. Whenever you speak I have to listen. I 
 can't stay away from you. I would leave the most 
 urgent thing undone to hear you. I would forego 
 the most brilliant company for an evening of my 
 boy's eloquence. Has it never struck you that you 
 are a young man of superior brains, of extraordinary 
 force? That you have all the elements of greatness?" 
 
 "I have never given it a thought. Greatness, 
 as the world defines it, carries so little of love for 
 one's fellows and so much of selfishness and vain- 
 glory, that I have no desire to offer myself a candi- 
 date for greatness." 
 
 "Alas! for the influence of Pierre Custis!" 
 
 "Stop ! Not a word against Uncle Pierre, if you 
 wish me to listen to you further !" 
 
 "I have said nothing against him. I could not 
 
234 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 without speaking against the only absohitcly unsel- 
 fish man I ever knew." 
 
 "Thank you. I can forgive you much for say- 
 ing that." 
 
 Huntington smiled. There was something truly 
 beautiful in the boy's love for the bachelor who had 
 brought him up. 
 
 "Yes, you have in 3'ou the stuff that makes for 
 greatness, and to-night, as I sat under the spell of 
 your voice, the conviction broke upon me with such 
 force as almost to intoxicate me. But you can't 
 expect greatness to come to you while you remain 
 in such company as you are in now. Do you know, 
 my boy, you are throwing your life away? What 
 do you expect to gain by it? The love of the mob 
 that you seek to uplift? Never! It v.-ill only turn 
 and rend you for your sacrifice. Ingratitude, sus- 
 picion, contumely, crucifixion — these are the things 
 you will get in exchange for the gift of your mag- 
 nificent youth. I can't bear to see you sacrificed in 
 this manner, and I will not see it ! Come out from 
 these Socialists, Custis ! They are only a crowd of 
 cranks and failures." 
 
 "That's enough !" cried Custis. 
 
 "1 am talking to you for your good." 
 
 "I won't listen to you !" 
 
 "You shall listen to me !" 
 
 "Shall? Shall? That implies command — a word 
 that a master uses in addressing his slave." 
 
 "And it is a word that a father has the right to 
 use in addressing his son when he sees the boy 
 foolishly pursuing some will-o'-the-wisp — as so- 
 cialism, for instance." 
 
 "Aren't you rather late in the day bobbing up 
 with your fatherly solicitude?" 
 
 Huntington flushed, biting his lii)s. 
 
 "I confess I am," he said, with a show of 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 235 
 
 humiliation. 'T merit all your superb scorn. I know 
 I have not done the right thing by you, Custis." 
 
 "You put it mildly. The thing you did was no 
 misdemeanor." 
 
 'T know it," 
 
 "It was villainous !" 
 
 "Yes, it was villainous." 
 
 "It was devilish, I say !" 
 
 "Yes, it was devilish." 
 
 "I say it was worse than devilish — the way you 
 treated my mother and me." 
 
 "Yes, it was worse than devilish — the way I 
 treated your mother and you. But can't a man 
 atone?" 
 
 "Your day of atonement is gone." 
 
 "You can't forgive me, then?" 
 
 "I wish I could. But there is my mother — 
 my poor little mother! Memories of her and her 
 wrongs have fixed a gulf between us." 
 
 "But not a gulf that is impassable. Custis, 
 there is nothing I would not do for you — nothing in 
 my power — you fill my heart so absolutely. Since 
 that day I first saw you in Richmond you have been 
 in my thoughts all the time, you have lived in my 
 dreams. Not till that day had I felt the thrill, the 
 joy of fatherhood, though the father of another son. 
 Do you remember how I drew you down on my 
 knee in the car that day? I could have held you 
 there forever, the contact with you, the atmosphere 
 of my boy, were so delightful. Oh, my son ! my 
 son ! I wish I could wipe out the blot on your birth ! 
 I sorrow unceasingly over your illegitimacy. It is 
 not enough to know you are my son ; I want every- 
 body else to know it, I feel such inordinate pride in 
 your sonhood. But if the joy I covet above all 
 things in the world be denied me, if I cannot call 
 you Custis Huntington — the name I would give my 
 
236 REBELS OE THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 life to Ijcstow upon 3-011 — it is still my privilege to 
 love vou, to serve you, to make you co-heir with 
 Pelham." 
 
 Custis picked up two crimson carnations — one 
 worn by Pelham, the other by himself, at the Cooper 
 Union meeting — and pressed them to his nostrils. 
 
 ''Now, I have laid naked my heart to you," said 
 his father, going on after a while. "You know how 
 I feel toward you. So you can appreciate my desire 
 to rescue you from the mistake of your life. Custis, 
 I want you to give up all this Socialist foolishness." 
 
 "This, then, is the price I must pay for your 
 love? This is what you demand of me if I wish to 
 become co-heir with Pelham? I must turn traitor 
 to Right? I must desert the cause of the people? 
 I must enlist in the ranks of their exploiters?" 
 
 "The people be damned !" 
 
 "I have read that one Vanderbilt once upon a 
 time said the same inelegant and undemocratic 
 thing." 
 
 "And I voice Mr. Vanderbilt's sentiment. Why 
 should you throw yourself away upon the damned 
 cattle? Whose fault is it that the people are where 
 they are?" 
 
 "It is their fault." 
 
 "You admit it, then?" 
 
 "Certainly. So long as they go on blindly vot- 
 ing the Republican and Democratic tickets year 
 after year, they have only themselves to blame for 
 their poverty and degradation. But they will not al- 
 ways be so stupid. They will not always be de- 
 ceived by the cry of a 'full dinner pail' — the cheap 
 device of a party ruled by Hannas and Quays. They 
 will come some day to see that they are more than 
 swine, that they are entitled to more than a full 
 trough of swill, that they are inoi! And woe unto 
 you Republican rascals and hypocrites who have 
 deceived the people! For they will come in time 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 237 
 
 to their own, will these creators of the world's 
 wealth, whom you Republicans regard as damned 
 cattle, and when they do pass into their inheritance, 
 kept back so long from them by fraud, the Repub- 
 lican party — the 'sum of all villainies' — will have 
 disappeared from the land, along with the brazen, 
 plundering plutocracy for which it has existed since 
 the passing of Lincoln, who gave it the little honesty 
 it had in the beginning." 
 
 "Perhaps, but it shall not pass away until it 
 has heaped coals of fire upon your head, my fiery 
 youngster. It shall some day give you greatness, 
 perhaps sweep you into the White House. Why 
 not? Others less brilliant have got there! God! 
 I would love to see you in the Republican party. 
 That's the place for you, if you have political ambi- 
 tion. Shake off these miserable beggars and mal- 
 contents with whom you train at present and come 
 over into the grand old Republican party of en- 
 lightenment and progress — the party in which you 
 can rise to eminence. Take your stand with your 
 father, my boy. My wealth, my influence, all that I 
 have, with myself, I pledge to your uplift in the 
 world." 
 
 Custis flung from him his father's hand, which 
 had laid hold of his, recoiling from his would-be 
 seducer with a scorn that made him look like an 
 indignant god. 
 
 "Perhaps you mean well," he said, "but to me 
 the Republican party is an organization so stu- 
 pendously vile, its mission so appallingly wicked 
 and traitorous — that of enslaving the common peo- 
 ple and destroying every vestige of popular govern- 
 ment — that I can but regard your proposition as a 
 personal affront. Your gen<?rosity, prodigal as it 
 appears on the surface, canviot conceal that dam- 
 nable cynicism of your class — 'Every man has his 
 price!' My price, you seem to imply, is political 
 
238 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 glory because I have taken to politics. Ah, how 
 utterly you old party politicians misunderstand us 
 miserable beggars and malcontents. Because you 
 are in politics for pelf or power you ascribe to us 
 the same base motives that actuate you. I want you 
 to understand, Mr. Huntington, that the Socialist 
 is in politics because of his love of humanity, not for 
 graft or glory. If he were in politics for either of 
 those things he would go with the Republican or 
 Democratic party, for there is neither graft nor 
 glory for anybody who espouses socialism. Oftener 
 than not, the Socialist's reward is, as you put it, 
 'ingratitude, suspicion, contumely, crucifixion.' " 
 
 Frederick Huntington's face showed no dis- 
 pleasure, no resentment because of Custis's words. 
 The only emotion it mirrored was love — unspeak- 
 able love for the audacious youngster, this brilliant, 
 unspoiled ofifshoot of his flesh, who loved justice, 
 who dreamed of brotherhood, as other young men 
 loved pleasure, as other young men dreamed of 
 power. 
 
 "You are severe on my party," laughed the 
 gentleman. "The prejudices of the Southerner and 
 the Socialist have met in you, it seems, making your 
 hatred of Republicanism terrific. But all prejudice 
 aside," he added, with a feeble show of aggressive- 
 ness, "have you not observed that the best people of 
 the North are Republicans ?" 
 
 "I have observed that your millionaires and a 
 multitude of climbers who would like to be thought 
 millionaires are for the most part Republicans." re- 
 ^ plied Custis. "But I will never concede that these 
 *'])lutocrats and would-be plutocrats, because of their 
 dollars, are your best people. What do you take 
 me for? A damned snob?" 
 
 Huntington was smiling, and it was a smile that 
 held no antagonism. It was a smile indicative of 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 239 
 
 something larger than tolerance. It was a smile of 
 sympathy, a smile of surrender. 
 
 Custis wondered what it meant. Could he have 
 made his father ashamed of his political wickedness, 
 as he had made him ashamed of his carnal wicked- 
 ness? Could he have unsettled his father's belief 
 in the right of cunning to rule, in the divinity of gold 
 as against the divinity of man ? Could all his father's 
 talk, his "shalls" and "shall nots" have been only 
 political bravado to keep up his courage, to assure 
 himself of his political orthodoxy, rather than an 
 attempt to coerce his Socialist son into coming his 
 way? As these questions flashed through his mind 
 Custis suddenly felt the consciousness of his power 
 over the man, and with such force as to stagger him 
 for the moment. He leaned toward his father — the 
 first advance he had made — and asked with the 
 simplicity of a little child: 
 
 "Do you love me?" 
 
 Frederick Huntington laughed happily, the art- 
 lessness of the youngster thrilled him so. 
 
 'T love you so it makes me doubt if I ever 
 really loved anybody before," he replied. "It is cer- 
 tain you are the only being I have ever loved better 
 than myself. I have always been a very selfish 
 fellow, Custis." 
 
 "What's the matter with your turning about 
 and starting out to be a very unselfish fellow? Just 
 try it, and the sweetness, the gladness you will get 
 out of it will astonish you. You will never desire 
 to backslide, the old path will have become so 
 joyless by contrast with the new." 
 
 Huntington drew the boy's hand in his, and the 
 boy did not withdraw it this time. 
 
 "If you love me so, I should think you would 
 want me to love you a little. Do you want me?" 
 
 "I would give the world for one-tenth of the 
 love you have given Pierre Custis." 
 
240 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Oh, I can manage to spare you that amount, 
 perhaps an additional tenth or two, and that, too, 
 without your bartering the planet. But you must 
 let me prescribe the conditions, and you must live 
 up to the letter of them. First, I require you to 
 give up this Republican foolishness. I mean it. You 
 have got it to do. I can't bear to see you sacrificing 
 your higher, 3^our real self, as you are doing, and I 
 will not allow you to do it. It is not well for your 
 soul. Come out from these infidel millionaires, 
 these atheistic plutocrats with whom you train ! 
 Cease this senseless adoration, this blasphemous 
 worship of gold ! What do you expect to gain by it? 
 More gold undoubtedly, but less love, increasing 
 hardness of heart, spiritual paralysis, and, finally, 
 death, with God, with Love so far in the distance 
 as to make it almost impossible for you ever to 
 reach them. 'W^hat shall it profit a man if he gain 
 the whole world and lose his own soul?' Do you 
 know that Jesus once asked that awful question — 
 yes, Jesus Christ, in whose name you rich men build 
 vast poems in stone? Yet you trample His truths 
 under your feet and brand as enemies of society all 
 who recall His philosophy, who would have men 
 the world over to live as brethren — the purpose, and 
 no other, for which Jesus came into the world. It 
 is the saddest thing in life to me — this daily denial 
 of the Master by those who are the most jealous of 
 His deity." 
 
 With these last words a sadness had crept into 
 the boy's voice, a sadness into his eyes, showing 
 how strongly he felt about the matter. He looked 
 at his father, as if inviting the latter to speak. But 
 Huntington only smiled, preferring to hear the 
 boy talk. 
 
 "I want you to study the subject of socialism 
 if you have not already done it. You will find in 
 the Socialist ranks all the strcnuosity you are look- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 241 
 
 ing for — the strenuosity that makes for brotherhood, 
 not the kind that destroys it. There you can have 
 all the opportunity you want to get rid of selfish- 
 ness. There you can find your life in losing it and 
 prove, as you can do nowhere else, the truth of the 
 divine paradox enunciated by Jesus. There you can 
 develop a robustness of soul you can develop in no 
 other cause, for the reason that all other causes, 
 however praiseworthy, are necessarily narrow. But 
 socialism is as broad as humanity itself, because it 
 takes in all of humanity, it is humanity's cause. 
 Come with your boys, Pelham and me. Take your 
 stand with us like a man, with your noble wife, 
 with Virginia and with Uncle Pierre, your chum 
 of auld lang syne, and with spirits like us, who 
 everywhere are bravely giving themselves as pio- 
 neers to the work of bringing in a new earth. Come, 
 help us make the world what it ought to be." 
 
 Custis had risen and stood before his father. 
 As he ceased speaking, he stooped and laid a hand 
 on each shoulder. 
 
 Huntington looked up into the blue eyes that 
 he had given the boy, unashamed of the moisture 
 that overran his. But speech was beyond him. 
 
 'T said I could not forgive you," said Custis. 
 *T told you that your day of atonement was past. I 
 recall it all. I can forgive you and at the same time 
 be as loyal to the memory of my mother. But you 
 must come with me; you must work with me. I 
 want you very much." 
 
 For answer the conquered plutocrat, his heart 
 all melted, put his arm up around his boy's neck, 
 drew his face down to his and kissed him. And the 
 boy kissed him in return, giving him full forgiveness 
 and with it a feeling strangely akin to love. 
 
 "You have made me the happiest man on earth, 
 my son," murmured Frederick Huntington. 
 
 He rose, still holding the boy's hand. 
 
242 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH. 
 
 "I will think of these things you have talked 
 about," he said. "Indeed, I have been thinking of 
 them for weeks, ever since I first heard you. But 
 there are other times. I'll go now. I have kept you 
 out of bed long enough. You need. rest. Good- 
 night, my son." 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 But Huntington stood still, looking at Custis, 
 his eyes pathetic with appeal. 
 
 "Can't you grant me another word — a word I 
 am hungering to hear from your lips?'' 
 
 "Good-night — father," said the boy, softly. And 
 then they separated. And Custis removed his gar- 
 ments and slept in the embrace of a gladness greater 
 than any of the world's generals had ever felt fol- 
 lowing a victorious battle. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 "Awake, Custis! Awake, boy! Are you dead?" 
 
 And Pelham rolled his brother over and over 
 until, at last, Custis opened his eyes. 
 
 "What time is it?" he asked, 
 
 "Half-past one." 
 
 "Half-past one? What criminal indolence to 
 have slept the morning away as I have done !" 
 
 "That naturally follows when you write the 
 night away. What time did you go to bed?" 
 
 "About four o'clock. I wrote only one letter, 
 however — a letter to Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "But that was equivalent to six ordinary let- 
 ters. How many pages this week?" 
 
 "Only thirty. Did you go to church this 
 morning?" 
 
 "Yes; mother, Virginia and I." 
 
 "Why didn't you awaken me to go?" 
 
 "Because it was the unanimous vote of the 
 household that sleep was better for you than 
 gospel." 
 
 "Ordinarily, yes ; but when the gospel is inter- 
 preted by Heber Newton I vote against sleep every 
 time." 
 
 "Dr. Newton is all right. Well, big brother, I 
 am ofif on the next train to speak before the Brother- 
 hood of St. Andrew this afternoon. When shall I 
 expect you back?" 
 
 243 
 
244 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH. 
 
 "A little before sunrise. I speak in Jersey City, 
 you know, at four o'clock, and in Newark at eight." 
 
 Custis took Pelham's hand. 
 
 "I have something very pleasant to tell you, 
 Little Billee— something that happened after you 
 had gone to sleep." 
 
 "What happened, Custis?" 
 
 "Wait till to-morrow. You'll enjoy it the 
 more." 
 
 And Custis sprang out of bed. 
 
 "I'll have to move," said Pelham. "I wish you 
 were going with me. Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye." 
 
 And they kissed each other, confident of meet- 
 ing again on the morrow. 
 
 ******* 
 
 "Aren't those tears in your eyes, Virginia? Let 
 me see." 
 
 Custis caught the girl's face, and, lifting it, 
 forced her eyes to meet his. 
 
 "Tears? Yes," he said, kissing her. "What is 
 the matter, sweetheart? Who has troubled you?" 
 
 "You know as well as I do." 
 
 "I know? Have I done anything?" 
 
 "Oh, Custis! How can you act so when they 
 say such wicked things of you — things that are 
 utterly false?" 
 
 "Of me, dear? Who says them? And what 
 are the things they say?" 
 
 "Haven't you read the morning papers? Tyler 
 told me he had taken them to your room. You 
 shouldn't have seen them, though, if I had only 
 read that vile article in time. Oh, these degenerate 
 newspapers ! There is nothing too base for them 
 to stoop to in their eagerness to serve their capi- 
 talistic masters, nothing too venomous for them to 
 say of those who stand for the right. Oh, Custis! 
 
REBELS OF THE NEVv SOUTH. 245 
 
 How can you laugh so? You have no idea of what 
 they have said about you, dear." 
 
 "How can I laugh so?" he said. "Simply be- 
 cause the sweetest girl on earth loves me and be- 
 lieves in me so that it makes her fighting mad if a 
 newspaper dares even criticise me. You'll have to 
 get hardened to that sort of thing, sweetheart." 
 
 "But this is no criticism, Custis. It is a ma- 
 licious slander." 
 
 "What do they say I have done? Whom have 
 I robbed? Whom have I murdered? How many 
 wives have I deserted?" 
 
 "They represent you as a young man of un- 
 bounded egotism and selfishness." 
 
 "That is certainly a grave charge against a 
 fellow who is ever harping on brotherhood. Is there 
 nothing specific charged against me?" 
 
 "You are charged " 
 
 "With what?" 
 
 "With having brutally deserted Uncle Pierre 
 to shift for himself as best he could after you had 
 got all you could out of him — after you had bled 
 him of his last cent and left him to starve." 
 
 "My God! I deserted Uncle Pierre! I bled 
 him of his last cent ! I left him to starve ! I don't 
 understand, Virginia !" 
 
 "He is pathetically pictured in abject want and 
 on the brink of the grave." 
 
 "Virginia ! Virginia !" 
 
 "And it is you — your ambition, your extrava- 
 gance, your vanity — that have reduced him to this 
 pitiable condition." 
 
 "Oh, my God !" 
 
 "It is all false, Custis!" 
 
 "I am not so sure of that, Virginia ! What 
 else?" 
 
 "While you are preaching the brotherhood of 
 man, the gospel of love in the North and living on 
 
246 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH. 
 
 the fat of the land, the article goes on to say, Uncle 
 Pierre, your best friend, your more than father " 
 
 ''Yes, yes ! Go on !" 
 
 "Has been forced to give up the home of his 
 fathers to satisfy the party of whom he borrowed 
 money with which to send you through college, and 
 but for an old ex-slave, who shares his cabin v/ith 
 him, he would now have no roof above his head." 
 
 "This is horrible, Virginia! Horrible!" 
 
 And the poor boy threw up his hands and 
 groaned in his anguish. 
 
 "It is a horrible lie. Don't you hear from Uncle 
 Pierre regularly every week? Aren't his letters al- 
 ways as bright and optimistic as they can be? 
 Didn't you give me to read only yesterday the last 
 one he wrote you ?" 
 
 "Yes, but that argues nothing. You don't know 
 him as I do. Oh, the heroism of Pierre Custis ! It 
 is a thing divine. He would suffer on uncomplain- 
 ingly, bravely — yes, gladly — for my sake. He 
 would never let me know it, I would have to find 
 it out for myself. And this I intend to do before to- 
 morrow night. Virginia, I am going home to see if 
 this thing be true ; to see if my education has cost 
 Uncle Pierre dear old Holly Plill and brought upon 
 him such destitution as pictured. If I find it true, I 
 shall never forgive myself. Of course, I understand 
 the animus that prompted the papers to publish 
 the story. It was to paralyze my influence, to dam- 
 age the cause of socialism, by holding me up as 
 another example of the socialistic agitator who fails 
 to live his gospel of altruism. But for all that, I 
 can't help feeling that the story is essentially true." 
 
 "Custis!" 
 
 "Yes, Virginia. My conscience has not been at 
 rest for a long time. While Uncle Pierre would 
 never tell me a word concerning his financial mat- 
 ters, protesting always that he was able to do all 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH. 247 
 
 he was doing for me, yet I suspected that his 
 finances were in a shaky condition. I ought to have 
 called a halt. I ought to have demanded a knowl- 
 edge of affairs or refused to come to Yale." 
 
 "You are not to blame, Custis, and you shall 
 not reproach yourself." 
 
 She drew his face down to hers and kissed his 
 lips again and again. 
 
 "Put the blame where it belongs — on me, first, 
 then on Pelham and mother — yes, and on Uncle 
 Pierre, too. Really, when you come to look at it, 
 he is the biggest offender of the lot. You are the 
 only guiltless one." 
 
 "I am not." 
 
 "You are, I say. Don't contradict me. It was a 
 sort of conspiracy on our part. We dragged you 
 into it. Indeed, the half-heartedness with which you 
 yielded exasperated me." 
 
 "I don't want you to make any excuses for me, 
 Virginia. I won't be exonerated. I am the only 
 one to blame. I allowed myself to be persuaded into 
 what I felt to be wrong. I turned from the voice of 
 conscience ; I followed the dictates of ambition. And 
 now you know the consequences. But the mischief 
 is done, and all I can do now is to go to work and 
 undo it, if possible — to get Uncle Pierre out of the 
 hole into which I have put him." 
 
 "Custis !" 
 
 She put her hand on his arm and looked up into 
 his eyes. 
 
 "What is it, Virginia? You have something to 
 say, sweetheart, yet you hesitate." 
 
 "Let me help you, Custis, won't you?" she said, 
 haltingly. "I can get Uncle Pierre out of the hole 
 into which his love for you has put him. I can 
 restore Holly Hill to him. Nothing would make me 
 happier than to put liim back into his old home." 
 
 He looked away, shaking his head slowly. 
 
248 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Have I wounded you, dear?" she questioned. 
 "I didn't mean to do it, Custis. I love you so, I love 
 Uncle Pierre so, that's why — I — I " 
 
 He brought her face to his, and drank deeply 
 of the warm, moist velvetiness of her eyes. 
 
 "I know it, darling-. I understand, I appreciate 
 your magnanimity. But it is I who have brought 
 Uncle Pierre to where he is, and it is I — nobody 
 else — who must rescue him from his pitiable plight. 
 And I will do it or die in the effort !" 
 
 He went to his room, and, hastily packing his 
 valise, returned, to find Mrs. Huntington with her 
 daughter. 
 
 "And you are going home, Virginia tells me?" 
 said the elder lady. 
 
 "Yes, ]\Irs. Huntington, to see if that harrowing 
 story be true." 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it," declared the lady, 
 emphatically. "It is criminal of the papers to publish 
 such falsehoods, and they should be made to suffer 
 for it. My poor child ! My big old Dixie boy !" 
 
 She took his hand and swept it with her lips, 
 loving him as she loved her own children, and the 
 youth, ever responsive to a caress, gave her a warm, 
 nestling kiss, loving her as he had loved his mother. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Custis found very few loiterers — and they were 
 negroes — about the station when he arrived at Elk 
 Bluff the next afternoon. He hastened into the little 
 buff building to obtain the denial or confirmation of 
 the story that had brought him home ; but Mr. 
 Woodson, who had been agent for a decade or more, 
 was gone, and in his place was a boy guilty of a 
 gold tooth and excessive fatness. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Woodson?" asked Custis. 
 
 "Chucked up his job and gone to storekeeping 
 over in Powhatan." 
 
 The young telegrapher fixed his eyes of robin- 
 egg blue upon Custis, scrutinizing him from hair 
 to toe. 
 
 "I know you, I'm sure of it," he said. "You go 
 to Richmond college, don't you?" 
 
 "I did until last June." 
 
 "You were the best all-round athlete there? 
 Your name is Christian?" 
 
 "That's my name. Are you from Richmond?" 
 
 "Yes. My name is Cardoza — Beauregard Car- 
 doza. You've heard of Cardoza Brothers, tobac- 
 conists? Well, they arc cousins of mine. I wish 
 I had half the coin they can count. I wouldn't be 
 here. No, siree !" 
 
 The speaker's fat fingers sought the corn-col- 
 ored down above his mouth, which made Custis 
 think, somehow, of a blonde caterpillar. 
 
 249 
 
250 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH. 
 
 "Lieutenant Cardoza of the Howitzers is a 
 cousin of mine, too. Tony is the devil after women. 
 He is a good-looking son of a gun, and he dresses 
 like hell. Oh, he is a sport, all right! Have a 
 cigarette ?" 
 
 "No, I thank you." 
 
 "Don't you smoke?" 
 
 "No. Hello, Garfield !" as 'Relius's boy appeared 
 in the doorway. "Is your father here?" 
 
 "Yas, suh. He out doahs dar." 
 
 'Relius, having disposed of his ties, had turned 
 his team in the direction of home. He gave a cry 
 of joy at sight of Custis, and in his eagerness to 
 reach the boy ran violently into the arms of old 
 Aunt Tulip Taliaferro. 
 
 "Marse Pierre gwine to git well now !" he 
 chuckled. 
 
 "It is true, then, that he is ill?" 
 
 "He jes' kin creep round, he so crippled up wid 
 rheumatism." 
 
 "'Relius! 'Relius!" 
 
 "Dat's so. I has to dress him and undress him 
 jes' like he was a baby." 
 
 "JMy poor Uncle Pierre!" tears deluging his 
 eyes. " 'Relius, old man, tell me : Is it true — about 
 Holly Hill?" 
 
 "What busybody done writ you 'bout it?" 
 
 "Somebody, evidently an enemy, telegraphed it 
 to the New York papers. It is true, then?" 
 
 "Too true for dis nigger. 'Twas de terriblest 
 day whar I ever seed when de old place was sold 
 and all de things 'long wid it. De day dey took me 
 to de penitentiary warn't nowhars 'longside it, for 
 I sort of 'served dat, but po' Marse Pierre ain't 
 'served no sich hound dog treatment like he got." 
 
 "But Shylock must ha^'e his pound of flesh," 
 said Custis, bitterly. "God speed the day when the 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH. 251 
 
 usurer's occupation will be gone ! Are you ready to 
 start?" he asked, after a moment. 
 
 "Yes; jump in. Garfield, s'pose you git up dar 
 'hind us, son." 
 
 And when the wagon moved ofif, Custis re- 
 sumed his questioning: 
 
 "When did this thing happen, 'Relius?" 
 "More'n a month ago ; de fust of October." 
 "And, like the dear, true fellow you are, you 
 took him in out of the cold ?" 
 
 "Dat warn't nuffin for me to do arter all he 
 done for me. Didn't he gin me my home, de house 
 and de land? 'Twas mouty little to spar him a room 
 in it. And didn't he save me fum de gallers? I sho 
 would hung but for Marse Pierre. And den you 
 talk to me 'bout takin' Marse Pierre in outen de 
 cold like I done sumfin mouty great! Git up heah, 
 mule!" 
 
 "Do you think it was treating me fairly to keep 
 me in ignorance of all this?" asked Custis. 
 
 " 'Twas Marse Pierre's doings. He beg ev'ry- 
 body he see, for Gawd's sake, not to writ you 'bout 
 it. He sez he couldn't bar to have you upsot. I is 
 pow'ful glad, I is, dat you done come home. If you 
 hadn't you'd had to come to his fun'al 'fo' 
 Christmas." 
 
 "He is not so bad ofif as that, really?" 
 "You won't know him, I lay; he done fall 
 oE so." 
 
 " 'Relius ! You are exaggerating the thing!" 
 "I hope to Gawd I is, but you'll see for yo'sef. 
 I wouldn't werry, though, ole man. Marse Pierre 
 he gwine come round all right agin. You gwine 
 make him do it. If he kin jes' feast his two eyes on 
 you he'll soon git well agin. So long as he kin see 
 you and hear you he kin stand de loss of de ole place 
 and de loss of everything else, but de one thing he 
 can't stand is de loss of de little chap. You jes' 
 
252 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 oughts to see how he love yo' letters. Tuesday is de 
 day I always gits yo' letter fum de pos'office, but 
 long 'bout Sadday he 'gins to wish for Tuesday, 
 and by Monday he's impatienter dan a chile is on 
 Christmas Eve lookin' for Christmas Day to come. I 
 bet you he don't sleep a wink Monday night, he so 
 crazy for Tuesday. And when I bring him de letter 
 he laugh and he cry at de same time, he so happy. 
 He read it over and over ev'ry day through de week 
 tell de nex' letter come. Dey's all put away, yo' 
 letters is, jes' like dey was preciouser dan gold. Lawd 
 Gawd ! How dat man do love you, boy !" 
 
 "Don't tell me any more, 'Relius! I can't 
 bear it." 
 
 For a mile or more they rode in absolute silence. 
 
 "Virginia is well?" said Custis, at length break- 
 ing the stillness. 
 
 "She all right. I reckon we'll git to de school 
 house 'bout de time school break up," 
 
 "Why isn't Garfield at school?" 
 
 "Mister Jeems Pryor he took sick dis mawnin* 
 and wouldn't heah de chillen deir books. But I 
 lay Mister Jeems he ain't too sick to 'lectioneer for 
 de Dimicrats tomorrer." 
 
 "I presume everything white is for Bryan, and 
 everything black for McKinley?" 
 
 "Heah one nigger ain't for no McKinley. I is 
 mean enough, Gawd knows. I done even kilt a 
 man, but I ain't never voted no Republican ticket 
 yit." 
 
 "That is something to be proud of. 'Relius. Say, 
 whom would you vote for to-morrow if you were not 
 disqualified?" 
 
 "You know well 'nough who dis nigger'd vote 
 for?" 
 
 "Mr. Bryan?" 
 
 "Go 'long, boy, wid yo' Mr. Bryan !" 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH. 253 
 
 "Mr. Woolley, then? No? Oh, I know! Eugene 
 V. Debs?" 
 
 "Dat's de gen'man whar'd git my vote." 
 
 "My coming home will give Debs one more vote 
 — that is, if our Democratic friends are honest 
 enough to count it." 
 
 The sun had gone down when they reached the 
 school house. The day's session was over, and 
 teacher and pupils were gone save a trio of boys 
 loitering around the building. 
 
 "Virginia cannot have gone far," said Custis. 
 "Are there no other children going her way?" 
 
 "Narry one." 
 
 "Don't you think it a long, lonely walk for 
 the child?" 
 
 "It sho is; but she don't mind it." 
 
 "She is a brave little thing, I know. But it isn't 
 a question of her bravery. What could she do if 
 she were assailed by some big brute?" 
 
 "Marse Pierre he werry 'bout de same thing. 
 He didn't want her to go to school in de fust place, 
 'cause de way so lonesome. He sez he could learn 
 her jes' as much at home, like he done las' yeah; 
 but Miss Clara Richardson she lack one more chile 
 to make de number for a school and she beg Marse 
 Pierre so hard to send Virginia he let de chile go. 
 You know how Marse Pierre is. He didn't want 
 Miss Clara to lose her school. Hi! Who dat 
 screamin' so?" 
 
 "It is the cry of a child ! Oh, God ! Can it be 
 Virginia !" 
 
 The two men sprang to the ground. As they 
 did so, a big black brute dashed across the road 
 where it made a turn, and plunged into the woods 
 on 'Relius's side. 
 
 "You damned black scoundrel !" cried the mu- 
 latto, and, enraged, he flew through the woods in 
 pursuit of the fiend. 
 
254 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH. 
 
 Custis, thinking only of his little sister, rushed 
 frantically around the bend in the road, calling her 
 name. x\ second or two brought him to the child, 
 sobbing, trembling, close to collapse from terror. 
 
 "Brother's little angel!" 
 
 He caught her up in his arms, kissing her 
 wildly, and then he fell to crying with the little 
 one, her sobs hurt him so. 
 
 "A — great — big — black — man," she tried to tell 
 him, "he grabbed me — and— put — his — hand — over 
 —my mouth! Oh, Brother! Brother!" flinging her 
 arms convulsively around his neck. "Don't let him 
 — that big black man — hurt me !" 
 
 "I won't let him hurt you, darling. There, don't 
 cry ! Brother wouldn't let all the big black men in 
 the world harm a hair of your dear little head." 
 
 He picked up her reader and pad, which she had 
 dropped in her fright, and with her in his arms went 
 back to the wagon. Safe in her brother's embrace, 
 calmed by his caresses, the little one was herself 
 again when 'Relius returned, panting, perspiring, 
 bloody. 
 
 "I cot him ! I cot him in dem pines down on 
 ole Mr. Dan'l Johnson's low grounds, and if I 
 didn't gin him de wust " 
 
 But Custis would hear no more of the story 
 where his little sister was. He wanted her to forget 
 the frightful affair if possible. He would have liked 
 to forget it himself. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 No tranquil joys on earth I know, 
 
 No peaceful, sheltering dome; 
 This world's a wilderness of woe; 
 
 This world is not my home. 
 
 So sang Cindie, feeling every word of, the old 
 hymn, as she stood in the November twilight taking 
 down the clothes she had washed and hung out to dry 
 in the forenoon. The line stretched across the spot 
 where Rutherford Demarest had fallen in his death 
 throes. Seven times since the terrible tragedy the 
 marigolds and four-o'clocks had sprung up, blossomed 
 and faded. But the old woman's thoughts were not 
 of that unfortunate affair at this moment. She was 
 thinking of her failing master sitting so patiently be- 
 fore the fire in the little log abode he now called home, 
 denied the comforts to which he had always been ac- 
 customed, "living and faring like a nigger," as she 
 phrased it. She was thinking of the "big house" upon 
 the hill, closed and awaiting a tenant, of the dear old 
 home wrenched from them by a merciless money- 
 lender. She was thinking, too, of "de chile" away up 
 in Yankee land, who had innocently been the cause of 
 it all. "But he ain't to blame, God love him !" she ex- 
 claimed. "If he knowed 'bout dis, he'd jump on de 
 fust steam cars and come 'long home. He'd work his 
 finger nails off, 'fo' he'd let Marse Pierre suffer for 
 anything. He ain't never wanted to go to dat ole 
 Yankee college, noways. He ain't even wanted to 
 finish his larnin' down in town, 'cause he feared Marse 
 
 255 
 
256 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUllI. 
 
 Pierre couldn't 'ford it. Tis all Marsc Pierre's faiit. 
 But he love de chile so, he do, he ain't thinkin' 'bout 
 nuffin' else." > 
 
 She wiped her eyes with her apron, the tears were 
 falling so fast. 
 
 "Did I think I'd ever be livin' in dis cramped-up, 
 niggerfied way like I is now? 'Twon't be long 'fo^ 
 some common white trash wid mo' money dan raisin' 
 will be flouncin' demsevs up yander at our place. But 
 even dat ain't werrvin' of me' like IMarse Pierre's bein' 
 so po'ly. Dat's de part whar's killin' dis nigger— to 
 see him dying day by day. If he was jest well and 
 sperrited like he used to be I could bar all de res'. We 
 mout go to town and 'gin life over agin. He ain't 
 no ole man; he young yit, Marse Pierre is. But he 
 done wore hisse'f out doin' and tendin' to udder folks. 
 He ain't never had no time to think of hisself or his 
 own health, and dis what done come of it. And some 
 of dese 'low-down white trash is got de brazenness to 
 say 'tis de Lawd's doings, de Lawd's jedgments sent 
 on him for his unbelief. But ain't none of dem tellin' 
 me dat. If dey'd pay Marse Pierre what dey owe him, 
 dese heah jedgments of de Lawd whar dey know so 
 much about wouldn't 've come on him. If he could git 
 jes' half de money whar folks owe him. he'd be livin' 
 up yander in de big house yit. Bar's dat old Amcn- 
 cordner hypocrite, dat ole fox-faced, 'oman-voiccd devil 
 of a Jubal Jones, whar bin owin' Marse Pierre six 
 hund'ed dollars for more'n sixteen yeahs. He come 
 to Marse Pierre, mos' cryin' dat he was gwine to lose 
 his home, and Marse Pierre lent him de money, to be 
 sho', he dat free-hearted, and ain't never ax him a 
 Gawd's cent of interest, 'cause Marse Pierre hold to 
 de doctrine dat interest and stealin' is de same thing. 
 And jes' 'cause Marse Pierre ax him kind-like to try 
 and let him have part of de money so's he could meet 
 his interest on de money whar he done borrowed, dat 
 hound Jubal Jones want to fight a duel wid Marse 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 257 
 
 Pierre, his pride done bin hurt so. And he call Marse 
 Pierre all sorts of low-down names. He sez Marse 
 Pierre is agin law and order, dat he want to 'vide up 
 what rich folks got wid po' white trash and niggers, 
 dat he don't believe in no honest dollar. I 'spec ole 
 Jubal done put so much honesty in his dollar dat he 
 squez all out of hisse'f. I wonder what make dat little 
 thing so late coming fum school ? But, shucks ! I 
 ain't gwine werry 'bout it. I got 'nough to werry 'bout 
 now, let 'lone runnin' down de road to hug and kiss 
 mo' trouble 'fo' it gits to de house. I jes' gwine to 
 wait till it gits heah, and den I ain't gwine stump my 
 toe to run to de do'! Hi, dog! Whar you come fum?" 
 
 She stooped and gave the canine visitor a rough 
 caress. 
 
 "One of Miss 'Ria's ole hounds !" she exclaimed. 
 "Look heah, dog, whar yo' meat done slip to? Does 
 you keep Lent too? I 'clar yo' ole bones dey jab out 
 so dey make my hand sore. I great mind to chain you 
 in de corn house dar and use yo' ribs for a washboard. 
 Dar's dat catfish mouf 'Relius comin' now !" 
 
 Her arms filled with clothes, she stood awaiting 
 the wagon, which presently drew up before the gate. 
 
 "Fo' de Lawd whar made me and saved me ! Dar's 
 de chile !" 
 
 The clothes fell from her arms, and through the 
 gate ran the old creature, love lending fieetness to her 
 feet. 
 
 "Mammy's boy!" she cried. "Who tole you, 
 honey, 'bout what done happen ?" 
 
 "The little bird given to gossip, which you didn't 
 think worth while to take into your conspiracy against 
 me. Aren't you all ashamed of the manner in which 
 you have treated me?" 
 
 "Mammy ain't had no hand in it, honey. If you 
 wants to pick a crow wid anybody, Marse Pierre he de 
 one to pick it wid." 
 
258 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 The largest room of the three in 'Relius's httle 
 abode was occupied by Dr. Custis and Virginia, a 
 screen conceaHng the Httle girl's cot. 
 
 The physician sat looking into the fire, his back 
 toward the door. Unobserved, Custis stood a moment 
 watching him, his heart torn with anguish because of 
 the wasted form, the forlorn attitude of the one whom 
 he loved so. 
 
 "What can keep Virginia so late?" mused the 
 Doctor, aloud. "There is no sense in keeping a little 
 thing like that housed up in school all day." 
 
 Noiselessly Custis approached him, enwreathing 
 him with his arm. , 
 
 "Uncle Pierre! Ivly Uncle Pierre!" 
 
 "Who — who is that?" cried the invalid, with a 
 joyous start. 
 
 "It is your little chap," answered the boy, in his 
 softest voice. 
 
 "My boy ! My world!" 
 
 The once strong arms closed around the youngster, 
 while the latter, abandoning himself to his love, kissed 
 the invalid again and again. 
 
 "Can I be dreaming all this?" asked the Doctor, 
 bewildered. "Can it be true that he has come home 
 again — my little chap, I mean? It can't be so. I 
 dream so often — every time I fall asleep — that he is 
 with me ; but I always awake to find I have been 
 dreaming. I wish it were true, though. Oh, I want 
 to see him so — so much !" 
 
 "It is true. Uncle Pierre ! You are not dreaming 
 this time. I am with you in flesh and blood, and I am 
 going to stay with you — always. I will never, never 
 leave you again !" 
 
 "But your education, son — how about that?" 
 • asked the physician, his mind clear again. 
 
 "Damn the education!" thundered the boy. "There 
 is somctiiing greater than education. It is loz'c! . You 
 taught me that it is the greatest thing in the worlds 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 259 
 
 the only thing worth Hving for. And you, more than 
 anybody I have ever known, have exemphfied it in 
 your Hfe. What have you not done for me? What 
 have you not sacrificed ? All ! all ! And what have I 
 done for you? Nothing! Nothing!" 
 
 And Custis flung himself, sobbing, on the floor, 
 between the Doctor's legs, laying his head on his lap, 
 as had been his wont in childhood, when some boyish 
 grief had lacerated his tender little heart. 
 
 "Don't weep so, son!" cried Dr. Custis, stroking 
 the boy's hair. 
 
 But Custis only sobbed more wildly. 
 
 "Custis, son, don't — don't !" lifting the youngster's 
 face and kissing his brow. "I never saw you do so be- 
 fore." 
 
 "I can't help it, Uncle Pierre I My heart is 
 broken to see what I have brought you to." 
 
 "It is all right, it is all right, son. I don't mind it. 
 Home, friends, health, everything may go, so long as 
 you are left. With you, I am content, I am happy. 
 Without you, I should be lonely even with God." 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me all this last summer, 
 Uncle Pierre?" asked Custis, after a silence lasting 
 minutes. "You knew what was coming?" 
 
 "But I thought I could avert it. I lived in hopes 
 of patching up matters for a time — till you were 
 through Yale, at any rate." 
 
 "If I had known it, I would never have left you. 
 I could not have prevented the loss of Holly Hill, but 
 I could have taken you to Richmond or some other 
 place and gone to work for you. You might at least 
 have been spared this intolerable sort of existence. 
 Why have you treated me in this manner? Didn't I 
 promise you the night of my graduation that you 
 should never tread your Gethsemane alone — that I'd 
 be with you when you came to it? And you — you re- 
 fused to let me go with you ; you spurned my comrade- 
 ship." 
 
26o REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "Aly boy ! My life !" 
 
 "And your life I will be! I have youth, health, 
 strength — all in abundance. And you, too, shall have 
 them, because I have them. You shall not be ill where 
 I am. Who taught me the gospel of health along with 
 the gospel of love? Who was it that used to declare 
 that health is as contagious as disease. Thou art the 
 man ! Surely, you have not recanted these teachings 
 of your earlier years? You shall not if you are in- 
 clined. You shall grow young and strong again. Why 
 not? You are just forty-five — forty-five last Friday. 
 Why, you are a young man !" 
 
 "Yes, comparatively. But, somehow, I have gone 
 all to pieces lately, son. I fear I am on the brink of 
 dissolution." 
 
 "You are not, unless you will it so. And I forbid 
 your willing it so. 'Because I live you shall live 
 also!' Jesus said that, you remember, to his disciples 
 with regard to the life to come. I say it to you relative 
 to the life that is. I will take you in hand at once. I 
 will scatter your rheumatism, I will bring you out of 
 your invalidism. I will breathe back into you all your 
 old-time health and vigor. You shall know again the 
 elasticity, the joy of youth. You shall become as a boy 
 once more!" 
 
 Dr. Custis smiled wistfully, but he was feeling 
 stronger and younger because of the boy's words, be- 
 cause of the boy's presence. There was inspiration ; 
 there was healing in the youngster's atmosphere. 
 
 "How are my other children, Virginia and Pel- 
 ham?" asked the invalid, after awhile. 
 
 "They are in superb condition. By the way, \^ir- 
 ginia sent you some violets." 
 
 Custis sprang to his feet and went into the next 
 room, where he had left the flowers. 
 
 Mammy was bending over the fire. 
 
 "We living mouty po' dcse days, honey," she 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 261 
 
 apologized, turning over a corn pone in a skillet. "1 
 hates to sot 'fo' you sech a supper as we got." 
 
 "I can eat it if Uncle Pierre can." 
 
 " 'Tain't good enough for him. 'Tain't good 
 enough for a nigger, let 'lone white folks. We's done 
 had hawgs 'fo' dis whar'd turn up deir nose at de 
 vittles whar we bin bleeged to eat sense dat old squint- 
 eyed usurer devil come and stole our home fum us. 
 Does you know what we got for supper, honey ? Nuffin 
 but corn bread and milk, dat's all; not a dust of fiour 
 in de house ; de las' gin out Sunday. We is got a little 
 bacon, but you don't eat no meat. And you ain't never 
 had no hankerin' arter corn bread." 
 
 "I can acquire a liking for it," returned Custis, 
 with an optimistic smile. 
 
 He walked to where 'Relius had put his baggage 
 and picked up a tin bucket. 
 
 "Here are some oysters I bought in Richmond for 
 Uncle Pierre," he said, removing the top. 
 
 Cindie clapped her hands delightedly. 
 
 "Dem's the only things whar he's craved sense he 
 bin so po'ly. No longer dan dis mawnin' he sez to me 
 so wistful-like, 'Mammy, does you know what Pd like 
 to have?' 'What, honey?' I axed. 'A good oyster 
 stew,' sez he. And I could've bust right out cryin', he 
 eat so patient-like all de ole pig-trough vittles whar I 
 sot 'fo' him. How many of dese things did you git, 
 for Gawd's sake?" 
 
 "A gallon." 
 
 "Custis, my son, where are you?" called the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "I am coming, Uncle Pierre." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Custis slipped quietly out of bed with the first 
 flush of dawn, and joyfully w^ent through his morning 
 exercises. With the concluding stunt came 'Relius 
 bearing vessels of water, and the boy at once proceeded 
 with his ablution, while the mulatto knelt before the 
 fireplace to start a blaze. When 'Relius left, the fire 
 was leaping inches above the andirons, diffusing a 
 pleasant warmth through the room. Custis, his bath 
 ended, looked toward the bed, where Dr. Custis, 
 awakened, lay quietly, lovingly watching his every 
 movement. 
 
 "How do you feel this morning, Uncle Pierre?'' 
 he asked, hurrying to the invalid's side. 
 
 "Better than I have felt in a long time, son. I 
 hardly felt any pain through the night." 
 
 "Isn't that joyful to hear?" cried the youngster, 
 kissing .the elder man for very gladness. "You'll come 
 around all right. I not only feel it — / kiwzv it!" 
 
 The Doctor smiled happily. There was positive 
 strength in the boy's presence. 
 
 "There is a little poem by Mrs. Preston," he said, 
 "in which she speaks of having 'lain close beside the 
 pallid angel Pain.' I, too, have had him for a bed- 
 fellow, night after night for weeks. But last night the 
 pink-cheeked, warm-blooded angel. Health, came and 
 laid himself beside me. That's the secret of my feeling 
 better this morning." 
 
 "And your new old bed-fellow is conic to stay. 
 
 a6a 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 263 
 
 'Pallid Pain' shall never be your bed-fellow again. Ah, 
 this poor, wasted arm!" and Custis tenderly took the 
 emaciated member in his hand. "Do you know I was 
 close to crying last night when, in undressing you, I 
 saw how you had fallen away ?" 
 
 "You did cry, my son. I felt your tears on my 
 arm, and they were to my stiffness as no ointment, no 
 massaging could have been. There was the healing of 
 love in their moisture." 
 
 "Poor, poor arm, once so strong !" exclaimed Cus- 
 tis. "But it shall not remain like this. It shall become 
 again the dear old arm of former days — an arm pleas^ 
 ant to look upon because of its strength. It shall be- 
 come like this arm, like your little chap's," laying his 
 Herculean arm, billowy with muscle, alongside the 
 Doctor's. "Do you want to get up ? Yes ? Well, wait 
 till I slip into my clothes and then I'll take my baby 
 up and put him into his. My ! Hov/ much brighter 
 you look ! There is a hint of pink in your cheeks. On 
 my honor, Uncle Pierre !" 
 
 He skipped away, and breaking softly into song, 
 plunged into his clothes. When he was dressed, he 
 lifted Doctor Custis out of bed, and, leading him to the 
 fire, sat him down. 
 
 "Oh, how gentle you are !" said the sick man, with 
 a grateful smile. "You don't hurt me at all. 'Relius 
 hurts me a little sometimes. I'm not complaining. You 
 understand ?" 
 
 "Yes, I understand." 
 
 "He doesn't mean to hurt me, poor boy, and I try 
 not to let him know it, but I can't help crying out some- 
 times." 
 
 Yes." 
 
 "And I loathe myself for my weakness. It seem.s 
 to hurt the poor fellow to know he has unintentionally 
 given me pain. You know how he loves us. What a 
 glorious sunrise ! Look, son !" 
 
264 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "I was about to call your attention to it, Uncle 
 Pierre." 
 
 "Truly, an ideal election day. Are you going to 
 vote early?" 
 
 "As soon as I can get to the polls. I am going to 
 Richmond on the afternoon train, you know. So I'll 
 have to start for Elk Bluff immediately after luncheon." 
 
 "I'm going with you, son." 
 
 Custis laughed. 
 
 "Going with me ? I'm not going to run away from 
 you any more. As soon as I get work I'll come back 
 and take you and Virginia and mammy to Richmond 
 with me." 
 
 "It is to Custisville I want to go, not to Rich- 
 mond. I want to vote !" 
 
 "You dear old hero ! You shall go to Custisville ! 
 You shall vote !" 
 
 "You don't think it will hurt me?" 
 
 "On the contrary, it will do you good on a glorious 
 morning like this. Do you know I thought of suggest- 
 ing that you go with me, but was afraid you might 
 not feel quite equal to the rough ride? Since you pro- 
 pose the thing yourself, that settles it. You are equal 
 to the occasion if you feel that you are. Then think 
 of what you are going to the polls for ! To vote as 
 the angels would have you ; to vote for the Bethle- 
 hem platform, 'Peace on earth, good will among 
 men'! Uncle Pierre, it is nothing short of a sacra- 
 ment to vote the Socialist ticket. Do you know it?" 
 
 "It is the sacrament of sacraments, my son. That's 
 why I am so eager to partake of it before I die. I shall 
 probably not live to see another election." 
 
 "None of that sort of talk, young man. I forbid it. 
 You are not going to transfer your citizenship to 
 heaven for a long, long time to come. No doubt the 
 saints and angels have all learned what a fine chap you 
 are and would love to have you for a comrade, but 
 they will have to get along with you for many more 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 265 
 
 Novembers. We need you here below — Socialism 
 and I." 
 
 Custisville was turbulent with the hubbub of Amer- 
 ican sovereigns, so-called, when Aurelius's wagon 
 pulled up at the precinct that morning. The unex- 
 pected appearance of the beloved physician in his feeble 
 condition, accompanied by Custis, of whose return none 
 of them had as yet learned, caused quite a sensation, 
 and the towering personalities of Bryan and McKin- 
 ley in consequence suffered temporary eclipse. With 
 an exception or two, the men, irrespective of political 
 differences, gathered about the wagon as Custis sprang 
 out and lovingly lifted the Doctor to the ground. A 
 general handshaking ensued, and then Custis led the 
 physician in to vote. When they came out, after a few 
 minutes, Custisville, for the first time in its history as 
 a voting precinct, held ballots that were holy ; holy be- 
 cause each vote registered a prayer for the democracy 
 that makes for brotherhood, a democracy divine and 
 distinct from the old Bourbon brand, which, Cleveland- 
 ized or Bryanized, always spells retrogression. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 "Well, I have enlisted !" 
 
 "Enlisted?" 
 
 "Yes, in the army of breadwinners. Didn't I go to 
 Richmond for that purpose ?" 
 
 Dr. Custis smiled, and Ciistis continued : 
 
 "If the newspapers are to be believed, we are liv- 
 ing in times so prosperous that one has only to ask for 
 a position to have bunches of them thrown at him. But 
 it is not true, and these journalistic prostitutes know it 
 is not true. I flattered myself I knew a number of 
 people in Richmond — among them some men of in- 
 fluence. But after a close canvass of these friends 
 and their friends, to whom they referred me, the 
 only job that oft'ered itself was that of brakeman." 
 
 "Brakeman?" 
 
 "Yes, a brakeman, and of a freight train at 
 that." 
 
 "And you accepted the job?" 
 
 "That's what I did. I'll start right in at the bottom 
 and work my way up by thrift and perseverance to the 
 presidency of the C. and O. Why not ? I am honest, 
 industrious, ambitious. I don't drink or gamble. I 
 don't chew or smoke. I say no bad or 'cuss' words, 
 except when you provoke me to jerk out a righteous 
 damn as you did the other day. Now, I'll have to cul- 
 tivate penny-saving and church-going. When I have 
 acquired these two cardinal virtues in addition to my 
 others — two virtues you never thought worth cultivat- 
 ing — my success in life is assured. Before I am forty- 
 five I shall stand shoulder to shoulder with Ponty Mor- 
 gan, Jack Rockefeller, and the other millionaire 
 
 266 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 267 
 
 saints. I shall not be the failure you are at your 
 age." 
 
 "God forbid !" prayed the physician so fervently as 
 to bring tears to his eyes. 
 
 Custis flung his arm around him, and, laughing, 
 brought the Doctor's pale, sunken cheek up to his 
 plump, pink one. 
 
 "You know I didn't mean that. Can't you take a 
 little fun? I never in all my life saw such a kid as you 
 are. You know I think you the biggest success in the 
 world. Of course. Comrades Morgan and Rockefeller 
 and their host of worshipers would vote you the saddest 
 of failures ; but One infinitely greater than they would 
 think just as I do about it. In the day of division I am 
 afraid they will find themselves thrust among the goats 
 on the left, but I have no doubt at all as to where Pierre 
 Custis will pasture. 'Then shall the King say unto 
 them on his right hand. Come, ye blessed of my Father, 
 inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the founda- 
 tion of the world. For I was an hungered and ye gave 
 me meat ; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink ; I was 
 a stranger and ye took me in ; naked and ye clothed 
 me. I was sick and ye visited me. I was in prison 
 and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer 
 him, saying. Lord, when saw we thee an hungered and 
 fed thee, a stranger and took thee in? Or naked and 
 clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick or in prison 
 and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and 
 say unto them. Verily, I say unto you, inasmuch as ye 
 have done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye 
 have done it unto me !' " 
 
 Cindie had entered the room and stood with arms 
 akimbo, a rapt listener. 
 
 "If we's got to feed de hungry and clothe de naked 
 and take in all de stragglers and tramps whar come 
 'long, 'fo' Ole Master gwine make us his sheep, I mouty 
 feared de goats gwine be so thick dar won't be room 
 for 'em to butt. But dat don't make me werry 'bout 
 
268 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Marse Pierre's ever bein' one goat. If dar ain't but 
 one sheep let loose on de right hand, dat sheep gwine 
 be him, chile, if you heah my plea, for he ain't done 
 nuffin all his life but do for udder folks and gin way 
 his substance to dem whar ain't got none." 
 
 "Right you are, mammy !" shouted Custis, slapping 
 the old woman on the shoulder. "Say, where are your 
 puffed lavender waist and velvet bonnet with all those 
 lovely 'cow-itch' blooms on it?" 
 
 "What make you ax dat, chile?" 
 
 "Because you'll have to wear them to the city 
 tomorrow." 
 
 "Go 'long, honey!" 
 
 "I'm serious. We are going to Richmond to live. 
 We are going tomorrow if Uncle Pierre thinks he can 
 stand the trip." 
 
 Cindie sighed resignedly. 
 
 "Is I got to turn a bigoted, stiff-necked town 
 nigger in my latter days, arter I done scoff at 'em 
 and run 'em down all my life?" 
 
 "I wish you could see what a snug little house I 
 have rented, Uncle Pierre," said Custis, after awhile. 
 "It has six rooms, bath and other modern conven- 
 iences. Virginia, dear," drawing his little sister to 
 him, "you will again have a room of your own. To- 
 night ends this chicken-coop sort of existence." 
 
 "And the furniture ?" queried Dr. Custis. 
 
 "I have looked after all that. I didn't have money 
 enough to pay cash for what I got, but Ben, who is a 
 friend of the firm that sold me the goods, said he 
 would gladly lose three times the amount for the pleas- 
 ure of proving me as big a rascal as himself." 
 
 "Don't dat sound like dat speckle-faced devil?" 
 chuckled Cindie. 
 
 "Shall I get your mail, Brother?" asked Virginia, 
 presently. 
 
 "Yes, dear, if you will." 
 
 She slipped out of his arms, and, dancing away, 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 269 
 
 got It and brought it to him. There were ten or more 
 letters and as many papers. 
 
 "There is a letter from Pelham," said the little 
 girl. "He wrote to Uncle Pierre, too — and me, too." 
 
 "There is a letter also from Virginia," said Dr. 
 Custis. "Haven't you written to those children yet, 
 son?" 
 
 "I wrote a long letter to each of them in Richmond. 
 I requested Pelham to forward my trunks to our new 
 home. And what do you think I wrote Virginia ?" 
 
 "Nothing, I trust, you'll regret." 
 
 "No ; but I stated frankly how matters stand ; told 
 her of the humble position I had accepted, of the un- 
 certainty of the future. I released her, of course, from 
 her engagement." 
 
 "Oh, my son !" 
 
 "What else was there for a fellow of any manliness 
 to do?" 
 
 "Nothing, it seems." 
 
 "I couldn't expect a girl of her wealth and social 
 position to marry a brakeman of a freight train, 
 even if she is a Socialist. I wish she were not rich ! 
 Candidly, Uncle Pierre, I wish she didn't have a 
 dollar in the world !" 
 
 "I believe you, son." 
 
 "Then I shouldn't have been impelled to write to 
 her as I did. I would marry her and work for her. As 
 it is, her wealth embarrasses me terribly. I feel all 
 the time as if I were suspected of being that most 
 despicable type of man, a fortune-hunter." 
 
 "Nobody who knows you could ever suspect you 
 of that ; she least of all. She'll never give you up, son ; 
 she loves you too deeply." 
 
 "No, I hardly believe myself that she will. Still I 
 think it was my duty to do as I did. She can do as she 
 likes in the matter." 
 
 "Brother, I want to ask you some questions ?" said 
 Virginia, during the lull that followed. 
 
270 RRRRLS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "All right, dear. Proceed!" 
 
 "You know I own some property — a cotton planta- 
 tion in Georgia?" 
 
 "Yes, dear. You are the only propertied one 
 among us." 
 
 "Well, I've begged and begged Uncle Pierre to go 
 down there to live. I told him he could have my prop- 
 erty, he and you, and he won't have it." 
 
 "Of course not. Uncle Pierre wouldn't rob you of 
 the little you have." 
 
 "He wouldn't be robbing me if I gave it to him." 
 
 "Not exactly, but he would be taking advantage 
 of your youth." 
 
 "Then, I told him if he wouldn't do that to take 
 the money he gets from the rent of my property and 
 spend it on us all." 
 
 "And won't he do that either ?" 
 
 "No, he won't. I can't see anything wrong about 
 it. The day after we were turned out of the big house, 
 Mr. Meredith came to see us, and he said to Uncle 
 Pierre, 'It's nothing more than right to charge that 
 child board.' " 
 
 "And what did Uncle Pierre say?" 
 
 "He got mad as I don't know what! He wasn't 
 that sort of guardian, he told Mr. Meredith. When 
 Mr. Meredith was gone I told him he ought to 
 charge me board. He said he'd go to the poorhouse 
 first Now, do you see why he should do like that ? 
 When children do that way, grown-up people call 
 them stubborn and hard headed, but," and the little 
 girl sighed, "grown-up people can do as they choose, 
 and it's all right." 
 
 Custis laughed and picked up her copy-book. 
 
 " 'An honest man is the noblest work of God,' " he 
 read, among its trite maxims, "That's what Uncle 
 Pierre is, Virginia, Do you know it, dear? Your 
 father knew it. That's why he intrusted you and what 
 he left you to Uncle Pierre's keeping." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 The long line of freight cars came to a jarring 
 halt, and Custis, in blue overalls, sprang to the plat- 
 form with the air of a veteran brakeman. 
 
 "Well, how do you like the work by this time?" 
 queried Cardoza, the new agent at Elk Bluff, half- 
 pityingly, half-patronizingly. 
 
 "It's all right," answered Custis, indifferently. 
 And he was about to move away, when Cardoza said : 
 
 "Heard the news?" 
 
 "What news?" 
 
 "Why, your old home has been sold again. Didn't 
 you know it?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Yes, a New York millionaire has bought it — a 
 gentleman named Huntington." 
 
 "Huntington?" exclaimed Custis, becoming in- 
 terested. 
 
 "Yes, a relative of C. P. Huntington, they say. 
 He's got dead loads of coin — coin to cremate. I 
 wish he'd hand me over fifty thousand." 
 
 Custis said nothing, and Cardoza chattered on: 
 
 "Pie's going to turn the place into a summer home, 
 some say, and others say he's going to make a hunting 
 lodge of it, opening it for his swell friends in New 
 York during the hunting season. I reckon you feel 
 pretty bad about it, don't you?" 
 . "Not at all." 
 
 "By the way, he is here — ]\Ir. Huntington and his 
 son," pursued Cardoza. 
 
 "Here at Elk Bluff? Where?" 
 
 "On the other side of the station. They came 
 
 271 
 
272 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 down from the courthouse in Lawyer ^Meredith's car- 
 riage to take the 4:30 passenger for Richmond. They 
 were talking to me right here not three minutes ago, 
 and just as friendly as I don't know what. I tell you 
 I've taken a great shine to young Huntington. He is 
 a fine fellow, nice and pleasant as he can be — not a 
 damned bit stuck up. He's the real stuff." 
 
 "That's what he is," smiled Custis. 
 
 "How do you know? You've never met him? 
 Say," cried the gold-toothed snob, excitedly, "there 
 they are now at the other end of the platform — those 
 two gentlemen in the swell top-coats ! Aristocrats, 
 every inch, eh? Look! They have turned around; 
 they are coming this way." 
 
 Impulsively, Custis took a step or two toward his 
 father and brother ; then, changing his mind, he 
 turned and hurried into the baggage-room. But Pel- 
 ham had already seen him, and with the glad cry of 
 "Custis! Custis!" bounded after him. The next second 
 the brothers were in each other's arms, and Cardoza's 
 lips were an inch apart. 
 
 "You lovable scamp !" cried Pelham, effervescing 
 with joy. "What do you mean by such erratic be- 
 havior? What right had you to quit college and go 
 to work without consulting me about it?" 
 
 "You'll have to forgive me, little brother." 
 
 "I don't know whether I shall or not. Ah, the 
 worry of mind you have given me ! Do you know I 
 have been unfit for study or anything else save to 
 chase after you?" 
 
 "It doesn't seem to have told upon you physically. 
 I never saw you looking so well, little boy." 
 
 "Thank you ; and I never saw you look so con- 
 foundedly handsome as you do in those overalls. I 
 would give anything for a picture of you now. Say, 
 how is Uncle Pierre? Is he really so wretched?" 
 
 "I found him in a distressing condition. But I 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 273 
 
 took him in hand at once, and he has already improved 
 wonderfully," 
 
 "That's glorious news ! You'll bring him back 
 to himself. It is in you to do it. Father is here with 
 me. Do you know it? Come, let us go to him. Oh, 
 Custis. He is so changed. He is another man. / 
 love him now! And it is all your work." 
 
 Arm in arm, they went out to where stood their 
 father, who, from a fine sense of delicacy, refused to 
 obtrude himself on Custis ; but, as the boy approached 
 with his hand outstretched and a smile that carried 
 a caress, his face glowed with the gladness he felt in 
 the presence of the youngster, and even after they 
 had shaken hands he held the boy's hand, stroking it 
 again and again. 
 
 "And you gladly gave up your studies at Yale, 
 abandoned everything, when you knew that all I have 
 is yours and Pelham's, to take up this menial toil, to 
 pursue this drudgery — you were even willing to don 
 this garb of industrial servitude — because of your 
 love for Pierre Custis?" 
 
 "And hasn't he made himself poor because of his 
 love for me? You have not forgotten this — father?" 
 
 The word was spoken with a caressing hesitancy 
 that stirred Huntington to his depths. 
 
 "I have not forgotten, my son. It is ever with me, 
 Pierre's splendid self-forgetfulness. I thought in my 
 youth I knew him, but I had not half sounded the 
 greatness of him ; for, after all, real greatness is noth- 
 ing more, nothing less, than unselfishness." 
 
 The faces of his sons simultaneously lighted up, 
 their eyes, aglow with gladness, reminding one of wet 
 violets when the sunlight strikes them. 
 
 "I love to hear you talk like that!" exclaimed 
 Custis. 
 
 "I do, too !" chimed in Pelham. "It makes me feel 
 good through and through." 
 
 "Love is greater than gold, fame, everything," re- 
 
274 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 fleeted the father. 'T am fast learning this truth,_ niy 
 boys. These things pass away. Love remains ; it is 
 the one thing that endures ; it is eternal." 
 
 "Because it is of God," said Custis. 
 
 Huntington, after a moment, drew from an inner 
 pocket a large envelope and placed it in Custis's hand. 
 
 "Holly Hill is Pierre's again," he said. "This 
 restores it to him, or, rather, to you, which is the same 
 thing. You can transfer the property to him, as I 
 have transferred it to you. I want him to receive it 
 from you, not from me. Virginia, in the impetuosity 
 of her woman's love, burned to do the thing I have 
 done, but she finally gave way to me, like the sensible 
 girl she is. Coming from the woman you love, it 
 would, of course, embarrass you, but, coming from 
 your father, it will, or it should, cause you no em- 
 barrassment whatever. Now, concerning Pierre's 
 health: The poor boy is all run down, is he?" 
 
 "I found him in most pitiable shape, but I am 
 determined to bring him out of it." 
 
 "That's right. We must put forth every effort 
 to save him. He mustn't die yet. We need him, boys 
 — this incomparable Uncle Pierre of yours, who in the 
 days before you were born played Jonathan to your 
 father's David. Like David, I went far astray. Like 
 David, I have lived to sorrow for my foolishness." 
 
 "And because of it you will be loved again, as the 
 Psalmist was," said Custis. 
 
 At which the father smiled. And for a minute no 
 word was spoken. 
 
 "Pierre needs a long, long rest," said the repent- 
 ant plutocrat. "He needs a change of environment, 
 the diversion and delight of travel and all that." 
 
 "It would benefit him undoubtedly," said Custis. 
 "It would go far toward hastening his restoration to 
 health." 
 
 "Well, he shall have it. It may all end in disap- 
 pointment, as in so many instances of the kind. You 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 275 
 
 can easily bring back the old home if you have the 
 price asked; but health is not a commodity to be 
 bought and sold. However, we'll do all that we can 
 for him. Dear old chap !" 
 
 "Father and I have mapped it all out for you and 
 Uncle Pierre," said Pelham, laughing. "And it is a 
 •program covering several years." 
 
 "That's what we have done," smiled the father, 
 looking fondly from one youngster to the other. 
 "First, you are to give up your job to some poor devil 
 witiiout one. You need it no longer. Then I want 
 you to take Pierre to Florida for the winter. When 
 you return, say about mid-April or early May, Holly 
 Hill will have been thoroughly remodelled, refurnished 
 and made over into an as ideal country home as pos- 
 sible. I want Pierre to enjoy the summer in his old 
 home, to feel that it is his again, and that no money 
 lender can wrest it from him any more." 
 
 "What then?" said Custis. 
 
 "You and he are then to go abroad. You are to 
 go to Heidelburg and he is to remain with you till you 
 are through." 
 
 "How did you learn of my desire to go to Heidel- 
 burg?" 
 
 "Don't you know I am a mind-reader?" 
 
 "You may be, but I suspect a certain little boy 
 put you on to that." 
 
 And then Pelham, to whom he had once expressed 
 an ambition to go to Heidelburg. laughed in that glee- 
 ful way of his, showing his white teeth, which made 
 even strangers fall in love with the boy. 
 
 "Now, briefly, that is the program," said Hunt- 
 ington. "Have you any objections or amendments to 
 offer?" 
 
 "What are the conditions?" asked Custis, laugh- 
 ing. "Am I to go over to the Republican party?" 
 
 "Damn the Republican party and everything else 
 that makes for the soul's blight!" exclaimed the once 
 
276 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 stalwart disciple of Hamilton the people-hater. "Do 
 you think I really meant what I said to you 
 that night? I was merely talking to hear myself talk, 
 or, rather, to hear you talk. I didn't speak even with 
 the view of tempting you. For I knew you were in- 
 corruptible ; that all the millions of all the millionaires 
 could not tempt you to falter in your devotion to the 
 cause of the working class, to swerve an inch from 
 your loyalty to socialism." 
 
 "Then I am free to preach socialism to my 
 heart's delight?" 
 
 'T would not have you anything but a Socialist. 
 It is your radicalism, and the fire, the enthusiasm 
 born of it, that make you the glorious youngster you 
 are in your father's eyes. If you were to shrivel into 
 a conservative, parroting the inanities of subsidized 
 newspapers and political prostitutes, if you were to 
 degenerate into a creature so stale and uninteresting, 
 so barren of individuality or originality — why, the 
 charm, the glory of my boy would be gone, and I 
 should mourn for you as one dead." 
 
 Huntington's right arm had found its way around 
 Custis's neck while he was talking. He now stretched 
 forth his left arm and brought Pelham within his em- 
 brace. 
 
 All work about the station was practically sus- 
 pended. Trainmen and loiterers alike were absorbed 
 in the trio. Cardoza's eyes had enlarged ab- 
 normally. What meant Christian's affectionate rela- 
 tions with those millionaire swells? 
 
 "Christian's right in it," he remarked to Zeb. 
 Perkins, who had come to see if his guano had ar- 
 rived. "They seem awfully stuck on him, both 
 father and son." 
 
 "Why, Custis and that young chap are closer than 
 brothers," returned Zebedee. "Young Huntington 
 spent all last summer at Holly Hill and he was there 
 last Christmas, too, they tell me. He's a mighty so- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 277 
 
 ciable boy, considering all the money his father's got. 
 He ain't a bit stuck up." 
 
 "No, he don't seem to be. He was talking to me 
 in the friendliest way you ever saw just now ; asked 
 me how many hours I worked, and when I told him 
 eighty-four a week he was horrified. He said it was 
 a shame. 'But it won't be that way, my boy,' said 
 he, 'when the people own the railroads and telegraphs 
 and everything else.' What in the devil did he mean 
 by that?" 
 
 "Why, you dog-gone fool, don't you know noth- 
 ing, and been living in town all your life? The fel- 
 low is a Socialist." 
 
 "A rich young fellow like that an Anarchist?" 
 
 "I didn't say he was an Anarchist, did I? Don't 
 you know the difference between a Socialist and an 
 Anarchist. Custis Christian is a Socialist; so is the 
 Doctor, and I reckon them Huntingtons both are, 
 too. You know what I got in my head ?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 / "I believe that thar young chap Huntington has 
 got his daddy to buy Holly Hill for the Doctor." 
 
 Here the three men came down the platform, 
 Huntington walking between his boys. 
 
 "I am due in Richmond at 6 :30," said Custis, 
 breaking away from his father and brother. 
 
 ."Then we'll call about 7," returned Pelham. 
 -"Shall we, father?" ^ 
 
 Huntington smiled assent. 
 ,^"A11 right. I'll look for you boys," said Custis, 
 and, with a wave of his hand, he sprang on his train 
 as it moved off. 
 
 . "An hour and a half yet to wait," observed Pel- 
 ham, impatiently. 
 
 His father took his arm and they walked back 
 to where they had talked with Custis. 
 
 "Pelham, little chap," said Frederick Hunting- 
 ton, "I am far happier than I deserve to be. What is 
 
278 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 all the gold in the world beside the wealth of two 
 such boys as are you and Custis? Do you know 
 that, in loving him, I have fallen in love with you? 
 I wronged him atrociously, and his poor mother 
 even more. But I have wronged you, too — yes, 
 cruelly, if less fiendishly. I refused to understand 
 you, and it was Custis who made me see for the 
 first time the fragrance, the loveliness of you. One 
 of the most beautiful things about you is yoijr love 
 for Custis. It is a thing divine. Many a boy 
 in your place would be consumed with jealousy 
 because of the great love I can't help showing 
 for your brother. Not so with you. The more I 
 love him, the happier it makes you." 
 
 "It does! It does, father! I love him so I love 
 everybody else who loves him!" 
 
 "And because you love Custis so I have grown to 
 love you as dearly as I love him. Neither of you boys 
 is any nearer, any dearer, to me now than the other." 
 
 "Father! My father!" murmured Pelham. 
 
 It was sweet to know that at last his father un- 
 derstood him, and, understanding him, loved him. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 A bell a block away was striking the hour of seven 
 when Ctistis bounded up the steps of his new home 
 that evening, fairly afire to tell Dr. Custis all that had 
 happened. 
 
 "Maxwelton's braes are bonnle 
 As early falls the dew," 
 
 sang the blithe boy, bursting into the parlor. 
 
 Dr. Custis sat before a cheerful grate fire, and be- 
 side him a lady whom Custis had believed to be three 
 hundred and fifty miles away. 
 
 "Mrs. Huntington !" he cried, as she rose to greet 
 him. 
 
 "Darling boy !" she returned, kissing him with all 
 the warmth of a mother. 
 
 "This is truly delightful, isn't it, Uncle Pierre?" 
 he asked. "How are you this evening?" as he stooped 
 to kiss the physician. 
 
 "Better, son, thank you." 
 
 "And I have something here that will make you 
 feel better still," placing his hand over his breast 
 pocket. "Holly Hill is yours again. Think of it!" 
 and he turned the papers over to Dr. Curtis. "I smell 
 violets! Where is Virginia?" 
 
 "Virginia?" echoed that young lady's mother. 
 "Can't I come to Pachmond without Virginia?" 
 
 "Of course, but you haven't done so in this in- 
 stance. Virginia Yancey is in this house. Her weak- 
 ness for violets has betrayed the damsel." 
 
 He sprang into the back parlor, and presently 
 there were manifestations of great joy between two 
 young persons rapturously in love with each other, 
 
 379 
 
28o REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 followed by showers of kisses — hot, chaste kisses, 
 such as love only in its May time knows. 
 
 "That's enough!" cried Mrs. Huntington, happy 
 as the youngsters themselves. 
 
 And they, too, concluded it was enough, and came 
 sedately into where she and Dr. Curtis sat. 
 
 "Louise and Virginia had prepared me for this, 
 son," said the physician, as Custis sat down beside him. 
 "It is a delicate act of generosity on Fred's part, and 
 it moves me deeply." 
 
 "Where did you see Fred and Pelham, dear?"' 
 inquired Mrs. Huntington. 
 
 "At Elk Bluff. They will be here tonight. By the 
 way, they didn't tell me you girls were in Richmond." 
 
 "Because they were as ignorant of it as you," 
 laughed the lady. 
 
 "We had to follow them," said Virginia. "I 
 wanted to see Uncle Pierre." 
 
 "And to show him that he couldn't shake you as 
 easily as he had imagined," added Dr. Custis. 
 
 Old Cindie, who was spreading the table for the 
 evening meal, here stopped short and chuckled im- 
 moderately. 
 
 "I 'clar you ladies mus' 'scuse me," she apologized. 
 "I bleeged to have my laughin' fit out, dis no-sense 
 nigger is." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter, mammy?" asked the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "I laughin', honey, 'cause you ain't gwine to die." 
 
 "What makes you so sure of it?" 
 
 " 'Cause the devil he 'ginnin' to come back in 
 you. You gittin' Adamfied agin." 
 
 As they sat at supper Custis told of the program 
 which has father had outlined for him and Dr. Custis. 
 The ladies, it developed, were also parties to the plot. 
 
 "I presume you are ready to start with me to 
 Florida, Uncle Pierre, as soon as you can get ready?" 
 said Custis, reaching for a second winesap. 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 281 
 
 "Yes, but I have an amendment to offer. I want 
 Virginia to go with us — as your wife?" 
 
 "A capital idea, that!" cried the youngster. 
 "There is nothing slow about our Pierre, is there, 
 girls?" He dropped the halves of the apple he had 
 just cut in two, and looked at Miss Yancey. "Now, 
 sweetheart, it is up to you. Will you go with us to the 
 land of oranges, the choicer half of me, or will you re- 
 main behind a feminine whole ?" 
 
 "Ask mother," she returned, with mock demure- 
 ness. 
 
 He leaned beseechingly toward Mrs. Huntington. 
 
 "She .says it is up to you. May I make a Chris- 
 tian of the young lady ?" 
 
 "I'll see Fred about it," was all the satisfaction he 
 got. But it caused him to glow with triumph. 
 
 "That settles it, sweetheart !" he cried. "We'll go 
 to Florida as Mr. and Mrs. P. Custis Christian, ac- 
 companied by Dr. Pierre Custis. By the way, where 
 is our other Virginia?" 
 
 "Kate Hardie was here this afternoon and took 
 
 the child home with her to spend the night," explained 
 
 Dr. Custis. 
 
 ******* 
 
 "If the boy against whom I sinned so grievously 
 can forgive me, can't you, too, forgive me, dear old 
 friend of the clean, sweet days of long ago?" 
 
 Frederick Huntington read all the answer he 
 sought in the drenched eyes of Pierre Custis, whose 
 hand lay in his. 
 
 "I am come back to you, Pierre, to confess myself 
 a failure and to acknowledge you a success. I am 
 come back to you, my social conscience requickened, 
 my social vision restored and enlarged — the work of 
 the boy whom I cast off and whom you took to your 
 heart, giving him the love and care which I should 
 have given him." 
 
 "It is all right, Fred; it is all right," said Dr. 
 
282 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 Custis, at last able to speak steadily, and nobody who 
 had ever heard him utter the words could have doubted 
 that it was all right, there was something so soothing, 
 so reassuring in them. They had dried the tears of 
 Custis in his babyhood, and scattered the griefs of his 
 boyhood. They had inspired many a despairing neigh- 
 bor with fresh hope and courage. They had healed 
 the sick and brought back to life those accounted 
 among the dying. And they fell now upon Hunting- 
 ton like the forgiveness of God, bringing him again 
 into oneness with the companion and the ideals of his 
 youth. 
 
 The three young people were grouped together, 
 Pelham standing between Custis and Virginia, an arm 
 around the neck of each. As Huntington sat himself 
 down by the Doctor's side, they moved toward the 
 window, leaving the trio of elders to themselves. 
 
 "Sister mine, you missed the sight of your life 
 today," said Pelham. "You ought to have seen your 
 lover and my brother in trainman's overalls. He 
 looked great in them, and no mistake." 
 
 'T wish I had seen you," exclaimed the girl. 
 
 "Haven't you another pair of overalls — a pair in 
 the house?" inquired Pelham. 
 
 "I hadn't thought of that!" cried \'irginia. "Go 
 put them on, dear, and let me see how you look as a 
 brakeman." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Yes, really." 
 
 "Mammy, have you washed those overalls I 
 brought home yesterday?" approaching Cindie, who, 
 having "cleared away the supper things," had taken 
 her accustomed seat by the fire. 
 
 "I wash 'em and i'on 'em out dis mawnin'. What 
 you want wid 'cm. chile? You ain't gAvine to war 'em 
 no mo'." 
 
 "Virginia wants to see me in them." 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 283 
 
 "Dey's up in yo' room. I'll go and fetch 'em to 
 you." 
 
 "No, you won't. My legs are younger than 
 yours." 
 
 And up to his room he rushed, Pelham close upon 
 his heels. 
 
 "Virginia !" 
 
 "Yes, father." 
 
 "Pierre and Louise tell me that you and Custis 
 want to marry as a prelude to my plans." 
 
 "Uncle Pierre sprang the proposition upon us, 
 father. It is he who would rush us into ills we know 
 not of." 
 
 "But you are willing to be rushed into them ?" 
 
 "Well, I'll offer no opposition if it will make 
 Uncle Pierre happy." 
 
 "My poor child ! Mrs. Huntington," turning to his 
 wife with mock severity, "how can you sit by so com- 
 placently and see our daughter sacrifice herself like 
 this, even to please Pierre Custis ?" 
 
 "It is a shame, Fred, when you come to look at 
 it seriously; but we have all invested you with the 
 power of veto in the matter." 
 
 Here the boys burst into the room, Custis wearing 
 his clean blue overalls. 
 
 Virginia rushed up to him, clapping her hands, 
 
 "You beautiful booby!" she cried. "Isn't he 
 lovely, mother? Isn't he irresistible, mammy?" 
 
 "He all dat whar you say is," grunted Cindie. "I 
 don't keer what he put on ; if he don't put on nuffin'." 
 
 "You thing of delight ! You freight train angel !" 
 raved Virginia, and she pulled the boy's lips down to 
 hers and kissed them once, twice, thrice. 
 
 "Oh, what a sacrifice it would be for her to marry 
 him !" sighed Mrs. Huntington, aside to her husband 
 and Dr. Custis. Then to her daughter: 
 
 "Virginia, I think a girl of your age and sense — 
 
284 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 you are twenty-one, remember — should act with more 
 decorum." 
 
 *T have a right to kiss him as much as I want to. 
 He is mine— ^and Uncle Pierre's." 
 
 "And mine, too," shouted Pelham, coiling his arm 
 about his brother's body. 
 
 Cindie chuckled, causing the trinity in the forties 
 to outlaugh the trinity in the twenties. 
 
 "Have you no stock in him, mammy?" inquired 
 Fred Huntington. 
 
 "I was jes' steddyin' to myse'f whar'bouts I 
 come in at," answered the negrcss. "I suttiny 
 oughts to have some shars in de chile." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 "Lawd Gawd, Sis Millie! You make me jump 
 outen my skin ! But I mouty, mouty glad to see you. 
 How you bin all dese months?" 
 
 And Cindie's lips and ^lillie's lips, the hue of 
 blackberries drained of their juice, rushed into a kiss 
 that echoed. 
 
 "Oh, I is up an' doin', 'siderin' I got one foot in _de 
 grave and de udder nigh to de aidge. You lookin' 
 peart. Sis Cindie? 'Tain't no use axin' if you well. 
 You' face certifies it." 
 
 "I ain't tellin' you how I is in body, I so happy 
 in sperrit to git out o' dat old jumbled-up, run-crazy 
 New York place." 
 
 "I lay you is, honey. Dar ain't no place like Ole 
 Wirginny, arter all 1" 
 
 "No, Jesus!" 
 
 "I ain't knowin' a Gawd's Avord 'bout yo' bein' 
 back tell Jeems he happen tole me las' night dat you 
 was heah, and done bin sense Monday. De po' for- 
 gitful nigger ! De Doctor and Mr. Custis ain't come 
 back wid you, is dey?" 
 
 "No ; but we done come down to prepar' for 'em, 
 Mrs. Huntington, Mr. Pelham and little Wirginia 
 come 'long wid me. Marse Pierre and de chile — dey's 
 comin' in July, wid ]\Iiss Wirginia and de baby." 
 
 "How long you done bin gone 'way. Sis Cindie? 
 It 'pears to me a gineration done come and gone." 
 
 "I bin gone ever sense de chile's w^eddin'. Dat's 
 nigh on to tw^enty months now. De baby he nine 
 months old, gwine on ten. Lawdy! How dis nigger 
 is itchin' to hole dat baby !" 
 
 285 
 
286 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 "I spec' you is, jedgin' fum de sto' you always sot 
 by Mr. Custis. What 'tis, Sis Cindie — gal or boy?" 
 
 "A boy, and he name Pierre, arter Marse Pierre, 
 to be sho'. De chile and Miss Wirginia had de name 
 pick out for him 'long 'fo' he 'riv. Fum all de 'counts, 
 dar never was sech a boy. Dey all jes' wushup him. 
 Marse Pierre is de bigges' fool, to be sho. He love 
 chillen so, for one reason, and de nex' reason, it's de 
 little chap's boy. But I 'spec' dat baby is all dey sez 
 he is. He 'bleeged to be. Look at de father he got ! 
 Look at de mother he got ! Is you heern *bout de great 
 book, de novel whar de chile done w^rit?" 
 
 "To be sure I is. 'He Dat Got Years'— dat's de 
 name of it, ain't it?" 
 
 " 'He Dat Have Years,' " corrected Cindie, smil- 
 ing superiorly. "Don't you know everybody's readin' 
 dat book, everybody gwine crazy 'bout it ? I dunno how 
 many folks was reading it on de Old Dominion 
 steamer whar we come to Old Pint on, and when it 
 leak out someways dat we was de chile's folks you 
 oughts to seed de 'miration we got. I w^as de scru- 
 tination of all eyes, 'cause I some punkins in dat 
 book, you know; I is a figger of consequence. If I'd 
 bin an ign'ant, common nigger, my head would bin 
 turn all 'round, I'd bin so swell up wid vainglory. 
 What de folks over at Col'nel Boiling's say 'bout de 
 book. Sis Millie?" 
 
 "De young folks think mouty w^ell of de book. 
 Mr. Randolph he sez 'tis a grand thing. It make him 
 see life through diff'ent spectikles, he sez, and Miss 
 'Hontas vows 'tis de sweetest story she ever read." 
 
 "And what de Col'nel say 'bout de book?" 
 
 "Well, Marse Powhatan, he ole and staidified, you 
 know. He 'low Mr. Custis mouty smart and all dat, 
 but he sez he fur fum 'dorsing a whole passel in de 
 book." 
 
 Cindie's contempt was indescribable. 
 
 "Who spec' dat ole tarrypin to 'dorse what de 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 287 
 
 chile write?" she cried, hotly. "Who 'spec' an^ole 
 swamp-owl to fly whar de eagle fly? Who 'spec' an 
 ole bat to 'plaud de lark or clap his hands when de 
 mocking-bird opens his mouf? De Col'nel needn't 
 'spec' de world to stand still 'cause he won't move 
 'long." 
 
 Aunt Millie sighed. She always scented heresy 
 in such utterances. 
 
 "Is de Doctor well?" she asked, after a moment. 
 
 "Well ?" echoed Cindie. "Dat ain't de word, Mil- 
 lie Bowles! He ain't never bin spiled wid sech good 
 health in all his born days. He kin walk fifteen or mo' 
 miles a day and be no tireder dan me or you is jes' 
 clambin' dem porch steps yander." 
 
 "You don't like up dar in New York, den?" pur- 
 sued Aunt Millie. 
 
 "What up dar to like? I mout managed it if 
 Marse Pierre and de chile had been dar, but wid dem 
 'cross de sea I 'bleeged to mourn for home. I ain't 
 castin' no slurs on de Huntingtons. Dey all treat me 
 like I was de Queen of Sheby — Mr. Huntington, 
 Mrs. Huntington and Mr. Pelham. Mammy dis and 
 mammy dat — dat's de way 'twas all de time. I warn't 
 'bleeged to do no work 'cept I choose to. Dar was 
 plenty of furrin white trash in de house to do de 
 servants' work. I could git up when I minds to and 
 lay down when I minds to. No, I got nuffin in Gawd's 
 world to say agin de way I was treated. 'Tis de place, 
 'tis New York, whar I shootin' off my kattridges at; 
 for ole Master never puff de bref of life into a gra- 
 ciouser or seemlier lady dan Mrs. Huntington. She 
 one white 'oman whar's had raisin' ! Money nor nuffin 
 else don't turn her fool. She feels for udder folks ; 
 she treat her servants like dey all a passel of chillen. 
 Dear dis an' dear dat — dat's de way she 'dress 'em all 
 de time. And as for Mr. Pelham, dar's mouty few 
 boys like him, I tell you. He mo' like de chile dan 
 anybody I ever rund 'cross. I jes' love him dearly. 
 
288 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTFI 
 
 But arter I done said all dis, it don't make up for 
 Marse Pierre and de chile. I done travel too long wid 
 'em to be happy widout 'em at dis late day !" 
 
 Aunt Millie swayed and bowed in assent. 
 
 "I ain't bin doin' nuffin but breathin' ever sense I 
 got back," continued Cindie. "Dar ain't no room up 
 dar to git no bref, de houses so ungawdly tall and de 
 pavements so jammed wid folks whar ain't scrupling 
 a Gawd's bit agin knockin' you down and niashin' de 
 liver outen you, if you don't move 'long wid 'em. If 
 yo' shoe strings come untied yo' got to let 'em stay 
 untied if you don't want to be trompled to death. An' 
 de roads dey's all jammed up wid hacks and ka'idges 
 an' bicycles an' 'lectricity cars and dese heah auty- 
 alabamas. Mr. Huntington he got one, Lawdy! I 
 gits so sinful foolish when I go out on de street up 
 dar dat 'fo' Gawd I ain't knowin' whar my head is, nor 
 whar my feet is. But you ought to see dat chile — little 
 Wirginia, I mean. She kin go anywhars over de 
 town she wants to go — hop on de 'lectricity cars or on 
 dem steam cars whar run 'long up on dem high black 
 trestles wid constables sottin' by a little glass show case 
 to see dat you rick'lec yo' passport, Yas, dat chile Wir- 
 ginia kin clamb up dem great zigzag starways like a 
 squell 'fo' I gits to de fus' landin'. Cur 'us how chillen 
 learn all dese things so quick?" 
 
 "Well, dey's young. Sis Cindie, and we's old," 
 said Aunt Millie, solving the problem at once. "See 
 many colored folks up dar, Sis Cindie?" 
 
 "I see 'nough to make me shame dat I is a nigger. 
 I thought de niggers in Richmond was stiff-necked 
 and uncircumcised, but if you heah my plea, dey ain't 
 nowhars 'longside de niggers in New York, Dey's 
 saints wuthy of glory, dem Richmond niggers is, when 
 you sot 'em in de same catalogue wid de New York 
 niggers. But I don't kecr how high dey hoi' deir ole 
 heads, dem nawthcn niggers. It don't unkink deir 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 289 
 
 nigger wool nor bleach deir black skin. And de white 
 folks up dar don't keer no mo' for de nigger dan de 
 white- folks in de Souf. De niggers flock by demselves 
 up dar jes' like dey does down heah. Dey don't git no 
 invites to de white folks' parties or hand-rounds ; dey 
 don't marry no white men nor white women, no mo' 
 dan dey does down heah. Dey cook and dey waits on 
 white folks' tables, dey wash white folks' close and 
 mind white folks' chillen, dey makes up white folks' 
 beds and dey goes to white folks' doors when de bell 
 rings. Den I ain't relishin' what most of de white folks 
 call us up Nawth." 
 
 "What dey call us, Sis Cindie ?" 
 
 "Dey calls us coons. Coons, mind you? Now, I 
 ain't gittin' my back up when you call me a nigger. 
 Dat's what I is, but I ain't no coon, and de pusson whar 
 got so little raisin' as to call me one is gwine to heah 
 fum me." 
 
 Here the old woman broke into a hearty laugh. 
 
 "I mus' tell you 'bout de sper'ence I had one time 
 when I los' myself on de Bowery," she said. "I dunno 
 as you ever heern tell of de Bowery, Sis Millie, bein' 
 as you ain't much of a traveler, but it's de ungawdliest, 
 de unrighteousest place sense Ole Master wipe out 
 Sodom and Gomorrah." 
 
 "How you git in dat wicked place. Sis Cindie?" 
 asked Aunt Millie, alarmedly. 
 
 "It happened dis way : Mr. Pelham he 'sisted on 
 me gwine one day wid him and little Wirginia to Man- 
 hattan Beach. You ain't never bin to one of dese 
 swimmin' beaches, is you, Sis Millie?" 
 
 "No, Sis Cindie." 
 
 "Well, raised in de country like you done bin, 
 whar folks war plenty of close, I is suttin you'd want 
 to hide yo' face 'fo' you'd be long at one dese swimmin' 
 beaches." 
 
 "Dey don't war many close, den?" 
 
 "Mouty little, mouty little. Sis Millie ; 'jes 'nough 
 
290 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 to save 'em. Sez I to Mr. Pelham when he prance out 
 wid little Wirginia to jump in de water: 'Is dem all 
 de pants you gwine to put on 'fo' all dese heah folks, 
 honey?' 'Ain't des 'nough, mammy?' he ax me. 
 'Dey's sinful skimpy and thin, honey,' sez I, 'but I 
 reckon you knows best.' An' den he laugh and laugh 
 dat music-like laugh of hisn, his purty white teeth 
 shining like two rows of little tombstones, jes' like de 
 chile laugh and show his white teeth when somefin 
 funny seize him. And still laughin' 'cause I so old- 
 fashioned, Mr. Pelham he take little Wirginia by de 
 hand and off dey march in de surf. Dat's what you call 
 de ocean water, 'cause it swish up on de sand bank and 
 swish back agin jes' like it done got mad 'bout somefin. 
 You jes' oughts to see how dat gal kin tread de sea, 
 little Wirginia, I mean. De fishes of de deep ain't no 
 mo' at home in de water dan what dat chile is. But I 
 wandering fum my text. I started out to tell you 'bout 
 my 'venture on de Bowery. Well, dat was when we 
 was comin' back fum de beach. In de ungawdly big 
 crowd on de Brooklyn Trestle I got clean los' fum Mr. 
 Pelham, and de fust thing I knowed I was following 
 some other white man for him, and I kep' roamin' 'bout 
 tell I was de most addled nigger in Gawd's world. I 
 was in de outlandishest place I ever sot foot in, and de 
 curiousest folks was all round me thicker'n flies. 
 'Whar in de name of Gawd is I ?' I keep axing myse'f. 
 'What place is dis ?' I ax some curious-lookin' furriner. 
 *Dis is de Bowery, my black baby,' sez de low-life 
 devil, grinnin' insinuatin'-like at me. 'De Bowery !' 
 sez I, and I lift up my soul in pra'r, for I done made 
 up my mind dat I warn't gwine see Marse Pierre nor 
 de chile no mo' in de flesh. Presently I hearn some 
 dirty, Eye-talianly-lookin' little devil holler at me: 
 'Dar's a lost coon!' 'Who you call coon, boy?' sez I, 
 and de fust thing T had de little Satan tryin' to shake 
 de life outen him. Just den a constable he walk up 
 and grab me. 'What you doin' to dat kid?' sez he, 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 291 
 
 twisting a great big pole like he gwine to hit me wid it. 
 'He call me a coon,' sez I, trimblin' all over. 'Ain't 
 dat what you is?' sez he. I started to 'fend myself 
 when he raised dat big pole at me agin. 'None of yo' 
 back talk,' sez he. 'Move on, or I'll run you in yo' 
 tomb,' sez he. I never was so skeered sense Gawd 
 made me, Sis Millie. As de good Lord would have it, 
 I walk back to whar I come fum, not 'cause I had de 
 sense to do it — for I didn't know whar I was — but it 
 jes' happened dat I turned in de right d'rection and 
 de crowd shoved me long tell I riv agin at de Brooklyn 
 Trestle, but I didn't know it v,-,'is de Brooklyn Trestle 
 fum any udder trestle. Now, you kin jedge how little 
 sense I had left. All of a sudden som.cbody grab me 
 by de arm. Lawd Gawd ! I thought I'd drap dead 
 den and dar. But presently I hear de words, 'Mammy! 
 Alammy!' and I knows de voice of ole Marster ain't 
 gwine sound no sweeter when he call Cindie home dan 
 de voice of Mr. Pelham was in dat hour of my tribu- 
 lation. I look 'roun' and dar stand dat angel boy and 
 little Wirginia. He had me by de arm, and I sot in 
 hugging him, and I hug him and hug him tell dar 
 warn't no sense in it. 'Whar in de world is you bin, 
 mammy?' he ax me. 'Is you bin slumming on de 
 Bowery?' he went on 'fo' I could speak. 'Dar whar 
 I bin, honey,' sez I, and I grab hold of his coat tails 
 to keep de crowd fum sweeping him fum me agin. 
 And presently I told him all 'bout it. 'And de con- 
 stable,' sez I, 'he said he gwnne to rund me in my 
 grave.' 'Run you in yo' grave ?' he ax, lookin' 'mazed- 
 like outen dem big blue eyes of hisn. 'Well, in de 
 tomb, leas'ways,' sez I. 'De tomb and grave is de 
 same, ain't it?' I ax. 'Oh, in de Tombs,' he tried to 
 splain. 'Yes, in de tomb,' sez I. 'No, in de Tombs,' 
 he splained agin. 'Dat's de name of de perlice sta- 
 tion.' Den he flung back his head and laugh and laugh, 
 dat boy did, tell 'fo' Gawd I was skeered he'd bust all 
 his blood vessels and die dar on my hands at de Brook- 
 
292 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 lyn Trestle. 'Mammy,' he sez, slapping me on de 
 shoulder, 'you is de prize baby!' T is one no-sense 
 nig-ger,' I sez, in deep humbleness of sperrit. 'No, 
 you is all right, you is wuth yo' weight in gold,' he sez. 
 Den he gin me one hand and de udder to little Wir- 
 ginia and we went and jump on a 'lectricity car 
 somewhars and rode up town, but I ain't never let 
 loose dat boy's hand tell we git home. Dar he come 
 now — him and Wirginia. Dey bin to Custisville on 
 deir wheels." 
 
 As Pelham and Virginia approached Cindie whis- 
 pered confidentially to her lifelong crony: 
 
 "Bar's gwine to be anudder match one of dese 
 heah days." 
 
 Then aloud she said to Pelham: 
 
 "Heah fum de folks, honey?" 
 
 "Yes, mammy; lots of letters. How are vou. 
 Aunt Millie?" 
 
 "I is up and doin', honey, 'siderin' I done gone 
 beyand de 'lotment of prophecy." 
 
 "Here's a letter for mother from Virginia," said 
 Pelham. "I got one from Custis, and Virginia one 
 from Uncle Pierre. Custis wrote to you, too, mammy," 
 handing her the letter. 
 
 "Who ? Me ? De chile done writ to me ? Gawd 
 love dat boy!" kissing the letter. "Read it to me, 
 honey, won't you ?" giving it back to Pelham. 
 
 "With pleasure, but wait a minute, Custis has 
 sent us each — mother, Virginia, you and mvself— a 
 series of photographs of the baby." 
 
 "He sent his ole mammy a set, too? Sis Millie, 
 you heah dat ? Is you ever knowed a bov whar is lovin' 
 as all dat?" 
 
 "Mammy, I am proud of that youngster," ex- 
 claimed Pelham. "Few young men can boast of such 
 a nephew. He is a beauty ; he is a prize baby !" 
 
 "Go 'long wid yo' prize babies, boy I I ain't pin- 
 
REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 293 
 
 ning no 'portance to dat talk, 'cause dat's what you call 
 me de time I got lost on de Bowery." 
 
 Pelham laughed. 
 
 "Did she tell you about it, Aunt Millie?" 
 
 "She jes' bin tellin' me, honey." 
 
 "Whar dem pictures, boy, whar yo' gwine show 
 me so fast?" demanded Cindie. "I ain't steddying 
 'bout de ole Bow'ry now. I itching to see dem like- 
 nesses." 
 
 "All right. Here they are. Custis has entitled 
 them all. The first of the series is 'The Madonna and 
 Child.' It is a picture of Virginia with little Pierre in 
 her arms." 
 
 "Ain't dat beautiful?" cried Cindie. "Gawd love 
 his little heart ! Got dem same paradise eyes whar his 
 papa got! Ain't dat smile, dat face of hisn, ain't 
 everything he got jes' heavenly?' But Miss Wirginia 
 — jes' look at her, Sis Millie! Did you ever sot yo' 
 eyes on sech a gracious-looking 'oman? Dar ain't no 
 white gal in dese heah parts whar kin stand in miles 
 of her." 
 
 "She suttiny is one likely young lady," remarked 
 Aunt Millie, with an approving grunt. 
 
 "The second is Pierre H. and Pierre HI.," con- 
 tinued Pelham, handing the photograph so entitled to 
 Cindie. 
 
 "De chile ! De chile wid his baby boy I Well, if 
 dis ain't de loveliest sight dat my ole eyes is yet beheld ! 
 I dunno which look de happiest and de purtiest — de 
 chile or his boy. Look how his little dimple hand is 
 clutching at his papa's cheek ; look how he look up in 
 his papa's eyes, like he love him so. I spec' he do ; he 
 'bleeged to love de father he got, dat baby is !" 
 
 "Now, how does this picture strike you? Here 
 are Pierre L and Pierre IIL" 
 
 "Marse Pierre and de baby! 'Fo' Gawd! But 
 don't Marse Pierre look splendid dar! Gittin' young 
 agin! Look like he got a new lease on life! And 
 
294 REBELS OF THE NEW SOUTH 
 
 dat lovely little roscol whar he holdin' looks jes' as 
 happy and gratified-like as what he looked wicl his papa, 
 dont he? He won't never know no dif'ence, Marse 
 l^ierre sech a lover and spiler of chillen. Well well ' 
 
 nnH 111 f .u^ "^^^ ^u^°"' ^''' 'P^^'^ to behold dis day 
 and all dese things whar done come to pass ^" 
 
 One more, Pierre HI., ready for his bath." 
 
 A- u i 1 7^!" '" ^'^ '^°^^^- ^^^llie Bowles, look at 
 dis heah little he angel, won't you? Not a Gawd's 
 
 pf? T°\ •""' rf"'"^ ^' ^' P"^t^^^^t thing vou ever 
 seej- Look jes like his papa used to look when we'd 
 undress him and let him splash round in de water 
 He jes de spit image of de chile. I 'clar if dis babv 
 ain t sweet nough to swallow whole. If dem folkses 
 dont make haste and fetch him home so dis lovin' 
 nigger kin hole him I knows I gwine drap dead wid 
 feverishness. Look heah, boy, whyn't you read dat 
 letter whar my chile writ me?" 
 
 THE END. 
 
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