A White Presence

"But there aren't any pine trees at Woggles'," objected Virginia.

"Well, they'd be pines if they wasn't oaks," assured Matty. "Oaks or pines, the spirits live in 'em jest the same."

"I 'spose so," agreed Virginia. "Go on!"

"An' round and round he went, meltin' the snow with his hot feet," mused Matty, sniffing the air. "And in the house Betty Woggles set beside the old man, holdin' his hand, askin' him to promise he wouldn't die.... Hum! As if a human bein' could keep from the stalkin' whiteness beckonin' from the graveyard. 'Tain't in human power."

"Can't anybody keep death away, Matty?" inquired Virginia, an expression of awe clouding her eyes.

She was thinking of the man upstairs whom she but twice had called "father."

"Nope, not after the warnin' comes to him. Now Grandad Woggles had that warnin' as much as three days afore the angel clim' the fence and flopped about his house. But don't keep breakin' in on me, little missy, 'cause I cain't finish if ye do, and I'se jest reachin' the thrillin' part."

"Oh, then hurry," urged Jinnie.

"Well, as I was sayin', Betty set by the ole man, starin' into his yeller face; 'twas as yeller as Milly Ann's back, his face was."

"Some yeller," murmured Virginia, fondling Milly Ann.

"Sure! Everybody dyin' gets yeller," informed Matty.

Virginia thought again of the sick man upstairs. His face was white, not yellow, and her heart bounded with great hope. He might live yet a little while. Yes, he surely would! Matty was an authority when she told of the dead and dying, of the spirits which filled the pine trees, and it seldom occurred to Virginia to doubt the black woman's knowledge. She wanted her father to live! Life seemed so dizzily upset with no Matty, with no Milly Ann, and no--father, somewhere in the world. Matty's next words, spoken in a sepulchral whisper, bore down on her with emphasis.