of his wrist, slender strong hands and well shod, shapely feet all bespoke the gentleman.
Elizabeth looked at her son with a heart full of joy and thankfulness. She felt that he would be able to cope with the difficulties that were sure to beset his path.
"Where is little Jo?" asked Philip. "I certainty do want to see the kid."
"He's not little Jo any more," said the mother sadly. "You can almost see the boy grow."
"He's off down the river fishing with Jim Strong," answered Betsy. "Jim is trying to get religion again and he says the fishermen in the Bible were holy men and maybe if he fishes enough he can come through. Jim is a silly old nigger. Jo is always running with those farm hands and it certainly doesn't improve his manners any. I do hope, now you are home, you will make him mend his ways, Philip."
Philip looked inquiringly at his mother and saw on her face a troubled look. He put his arm around her and kissed her again.
"Y'ain't kissed ol' Mam' Peachy yit," whined the old negress from behind the stove.
Philip started in surprise. The old woman had been so quiet and was crouched so low in her chair he had not been aware of her presence in the kitchen.
