Mrs. Crittenden smiled.

"No, Bob, he's coming home now," and Bob's eyes streamed. "You've been a
good boy, Bob. Come here;" and she led him into the hallway and told him
to wait, while she went to the door of her room and called some one.

Molly came out embarrassed, twisting a corner of her apron and putting
it in her mouth while she walked forward and awkwardly shook hands.

"I think Molly has got something to say to you, Bob. You can go, Molly,"
she added, smiling.

The two walked toward the cabin, the negroes crowding about Bob and
shaking him by the hand and asking a thousand absurd questions; and
Bob, while he was affable, was lordly as well, and one or two of Bob's
possible rivals were seen to sniff, as did other young field hands,
though Bob's mammy was, for the first time in her life, grinning openly
with pride in her "chile," and she waved the curious away and took the
two in her own cabin, reappearing presently and walking toward the
kitchen.

Bob and Molly sat down on opposite sides of the fireplace, Bob
triumphant at last, and Molly watching him furtively.

"I believe you has somethin' to say to me, Miss Johnson," said Bob,
loftily.

"Well, I sut'nly is glad to welcome you home ag'in, Mistuh Crittenden,"
said Molly.

"Is you?"