Rodney was an illegitimate child. He knew not what this meant, but the sting of it embittered his young life.

The Negro has as much prejudice as the white man. Under like conditions the negro would make the same laws against the white. This crept out in the treatment of Rodney. His worst enemies were always negroes. The Anglo-Saxon blood in his veins made scoffers of some and demons of others.

To be pitied is the boy who has never framed the word "father" upon his lips. Rodney attempted it once, but failed, and never tried it again. He stood before his father bareheaded and with the coveted word upon his lips.

"You have a fine head of hair," said his father.

"That's what people say," replied Rodney.

"Are you proud of it?"

"Should I not be, sir?"

"Well, my little man, it's a disgrace to you."

This was the first and last meeting of Rodney and his father.

Once two fine ladies of ebony hue visited his mother, to show their silk dresses and to take dinner. A large dish of parched horse-corn was placed in the center of the table. His mother said a solemn blessing, and the ladies looked vexed.

"My dear people," she said, after looking them into a smile, "if you are good, this is good enough. If you are not good, it is too good. In either case, help yourselves."

Rodney learned from this and similar incidents to make the most of a bad case.

"A little corn, if you please," said one. She was helped plentifully by Rodney's mother.

"Give me a part of yours," said the second to the first. She received about four-fifths of it.

"You are too generous," said Rodney's mother, and refilled the plate.

Rodney sat on the floor, stroked his cat, and eyed the fine dresses. The ladies munched with dignity, or fingered the laces on their sleeves.

"I see Rodney has had the smallpox," said one.

"Yes," replied his mother.

"My boy had it, too."

"How did it serve him?"

"It killed him. All the good children die. It was a sad stroke to me. Well, since his death I have been able to dress like a lady."

"Like a lady!" said the other. "How my old mistress used to say that word. I caught the inspiration then. It lingered in my bones a long time before it crept out thus."

Here she surveyed her clothing with satisfaction.

"I see that parched horse-corn and fine dresses go well together," said Rodney's mother, as she helped their empty plates.

"You see we are considerate," said one.

"Yes, and ladylike," said the second.

"Yes, and patched with the blue and the gray," said Rodney's mother.

They looked at their clothes, but saw not the point.

"Mother," said Rodney, lying flat on his back, hugging the cat, and beating his heels upon the floor, "what is fine lace worth a yard?"

"What is it worth, ladies?" said she.

They looked at each other and frowned.

"Rodney has begun, ladies. Be prepared," said his mother.

Here she emptied the last of the corn into her visitors' plates.

"When I washed for Mrs. Rodman a few months ago she had beautiful lace on her pillow slips."

"Yes, she did, mother," said Rodney. Then, turning to the two women: "You ladies work for her now. You cook, and you wash. She and her daughter, General Bradford's wife, have gone to the springs. Did it take all the pillow-slip lace for your sleeves?"

"Don't be too plain, Rodney," said his mother.

"Mother, that's the dress General Bradford gave his wife. You know she told you about it. Mother, mother, what did you mean when you said that the ladies are patched with the blue and the gray?"

"Mrs. Rodman is of the North. General Bradford is of the South. One means the blue, the other the gray."

"If we are wearing things that belong to the blue and the gray, we are not patched," said one, as she arose from the table and put on her hat.

"No," said the other, "we are ladies when we are dressed so."

"That hat!" said Rodney.

The other one put her hat behind her.

"That one, too!" roared Rodney.

"Look after your half-white brat," said they.

"Look after your bare heads when Mrs. Rodman and her daughter return," said Rodney's mother.

"Now," said one, "I believe what the fortune-teller said."

"Tell it," said the other.

"I lost some money."

"Yes, you did," said the other.

"I went to the fortune-teller."

"I went with you."

"She pointed out a half-white brat."

"She then pointed out his mother."

"She said we would all meet some day."

"Now we have met."

"What did she say about parched corn?" asked Rodney's mother.

"She said a half-white brat stole the money."

"She said he would die, too," joined in the other.

"That's all plain enough," said Rodney's mother.

"Your boy is dead, and you know about his father."

"Now," said the one with the hat behind her, "I don't blame Uncle Jack for choking your brat."

"Nor Aunt Sally for throwing hot soup on him," said the other.

"Uncle Jack and Aunt Sally," said Rodney's mother, "will be important witnesses when Mrs. Rodman and her daughter return. They know all, and will tell more."

One of the ladies picked up a glass.

"How's your cat, my son?"

"My cat's nice and good and sweet."

Here both ladies spat into the glass.

"Cats are respectable and worth talking about, my son."

"This we leave with you," said the one with the hat behind her, as she set the glass upon the table.

"What do you take with you?" asked Rodney's mother.

Both looked around a second. "Corn in our stomachs," said they.

"Are the ladies insulted, mother?"

"They are dull and nasty, my boy."

The ladies hurried out, one knocking over a chair, the other deliberately pulling down a picture.

"Here, mother," said Rodney, bringing her a comb and brush, "tidy up my cat. Mary's coming with her doll." The mother combed and brushed the cat, while Rodney jumped on and off the table for joy. In the meantime Professor Brandon was conversing with the ladies on the outside.

"Ladies! ladies!" said he.

"Ha! ha!" was the response.

"Let it flow right along," continued the professor.

"We'll be generous enough," said they.

"Ladies, those poses are superb."

"Professor, you can judge."

"No one doubts it, ladies."

"Professor, I need words just now," said one of them.

"Professor, I need a professor," said the other.

"That's epidemic, ladies."

Little Mary entered the room and ran around holding her doll by one foot. "Oh! oh! oh!" said she.

"Is your doll hurt?" asked Rodney, following her around the room with his cat in his arms.

"No, no, no," replied she.

"A cat for a doll," said Rodney.

"I must tell it first," gasped Mary.

"Go on, while I fan you with my cat, Mary!"

"The professor and the ladies—are drinking—from—a big black bottle."

"Let's see," said Rodney, as he ran to the door and peeped. Mary followed and stood behind him.

"Ha! ha! let it flow right along," came from without.

Rodney held up his cat for a bottle and made a gurgling sound. Mary held up her doll and imitated him.

The professor now parted from the ladies and approached Rodney's home. As he walked into the room Rodney and Mary sat upon the floor and exchanged the cat and doll.

"I am Professor Brandon," said he, pulling his mustache.

Rodney went through the motion of pulling his, and Mary pulled the cat's.

"'Tis delightful to meet ladies," said he.

Rodney's mother nodded.

"Schoolteaching would be unbearable were it not for meeting ladies."

"Must you have the big black bottle every time?" asked Mary.

Here Rodney held up the doll and made a drinking noise.

"These young ones need curbing," said the professor.

"So do appetites, sir," replied Rodney's mother.

"I am a schoolteacher, madam," roared he.

"I am a washerwoman, sir," was her reply.

"Very well, I'll give you a job. What can you wash?"

"Shirts."

"What else?"

"Drawers."

"What else?"

"Socks."

"What else?"

"Diapers, sir."

"You are brutally plain, madam."

"You are devilishly inconsiderate and inquisitive, sir."

Both children emphasized the remark by beating upon the floor.

"To my business," said the professor. "This boy should be at school. Where is his father?"

"I ask you the same question, sir."

"Madam, that leads me to suspect."

"What does 'suspect' mean, professor?" asked Mary.

"It means—the Latin of it is—let's see——"

The professor stopped to pull his mustache.

"It means to dream out something and swear it's true," spoke up Rodney's mother.

"Madam, I want to talk to you about this boy's schooling. Have you any drinking water?"

"No. Rodney, a bucket of water."

"A bucket of water, Rodney. Go fast and return slowly," put in the professor.

Rodney started briskly, but Mary held him back and looked saucily at the professor.

"Let's bring back the bottle," laughed she, as both ran out.

"First, madam, I am a professor. I hold a diploma from a college."

"You carry it with you?"

"Sometimes."

"You have shown it to leading white men?"

"Yes."

"Well, many a good-meaning white man has been deceived by a college diploma in the hands of a negro."

"You presume too far on your limited knowledge."

"You travel too far on your flimsy diploma."

"Secondly, madam, I would elevate the morals of the race."

"Very good, sir. How?"

"I would begin by cutting off from society every illegitimate negro child."

"You would, in so doing, train your thumb and finger to pinch your own nose."

"My mother and father were married, madam."

"Your mother and her husband were married."

"Madam, I came in the interest of your child's education."

"You are a liar from the roots of your hair to your toe-nails. You came to pry into my private life and to take note of my mental stock. You may proceed, sir."

"I haven't time to stay."

"You have a sufficient supply with which to go."

"If you were a lady, I would say prate on."

"If you were a merchant, I would say speak tersely, weigh justly, and keep ever in mind a marble monument.

"If you were a poet I would say tear out and fling to the crowd as much of your heart as you would have the crowd return. If you were a philosopher I would say weaken not your philosophy with wit, nor weigh down your wit with philosophy. Philosophy and wit are good neighbors, but indifferent twins. Since you are a fool, I will simply say all remedies have failed, and you are happy and safe in your ancient calling."

Professor Brandon pulled his mustache a few seconds. He then said: "For your peace of mind, I will go."

Rodney entered with a pitcher of water, and Mary with a big black bottle.

"Have water, professor?" asked Rodney. Here Mary pretended to drink from the bottle. The professor took the pitcher and poured some of the water into the glass into which the ladies had spat some time before. He held it at some distance from him and said: "Woman's tedious, but pure water is wholesome."

"Professor!" roared Rodney's mother.

"You are just and polite, at last," calmly observed he.

"What's in the glass, sir? Examine the glass."

"That is best done in the dish-water."

The professor was about to drink it when he saw the spittle.

"You did this, boy?"

"I was holding Mary's doll, professor," gasped Rodney.

"Was it you, girl?"

"I was holding Rodney's cat and your big black bottle, professor," slyly replied Mary.

"You, madam?"

"Be calm, professor. That is the compliments of your fine ladies, without whom schoolteaching would be unbearable."

"They spat into this glass?"

"No, professor," retorted Mary. "Rodney said they puked into it."

"They had a mighty big stomach full of corn, anyway," put in Rodney.

The professor dropped the glass and stepped out of the door, seemingly very uneasy about the stomach.

"Professor," called Rodney's mother.

He stopped and grunted.

"Your attitude is undignified, sir."

He started to answer, but his mouth was too full. Rodney's mother walked to the door backwards and closed it.

"You did that, Mary," said Rodney.

"How?" retorted Mary.

"I didn't say they puked into the glass. I said they spat into it."

"It's all one, Master Rodney, and give me my doll."

"I won't. Give me my cat."

"I won't. My doll."

"My cat."

They tugged at the doll and cat. Rodney's mother threw her arms around them, and said soothingly: "My Rodney and his little sweetheart, Mary!"