on him. If she was going to work any of her charms she would naturally work them on the young master.
Suppose it was so—what Betsy had said about her brother's being able to work better charms than Mam' Peachy! The rumor had gone forth that she had said so. Someone had overheard it and it had spread like wildfire over the place. For his part Old Abe had never heard of a white man's working charms, but then, white folks were mighty peculiar. Philip—Mr. Philip—had been away four years and he had come back with a mighty independent way with him. He didn't seem to be in the least afraid of the dread Mam' Peachy. He even wanted her to know what he intended to do about the management of the farm. Was he so scornful of her and her charms because he could do better ones? The old man scratched his head and gazed at his young master. Perhaps it would be safer to throw in his lot with the stronger.
"How many hands does my father employ regularly?" Philip asked.
They had climbed to the top of a hill which was planted in corn, following a path by the fence. Below the hill stretched flat, grassy fields which bordered the river.
