an' Miss Evelyn an' Miss Myra air so proudified. Not that they ain't moughty fine folks," he hastened to add, observing an indignant gleam in the eye of Silas Johnson.
Brother Johnson chuckled. He could criticize his white folks if he had a mind to but nobody else could do it in his presence and go unscathed. He had belonged to the Taylors and all his family had belonged to the Taylors. Ever since Taylor's Mill had been grinding corn there had been a Johnson to help a Taylor. Emancipation of the negroes had meant little to him. He still belonged to the Taylors and the Taylors belonged to him. He and his old wife, Aunt Pearly Gates, lived in the same cabin they had occupied since before the war and he had charge of the mill just as he had before Virginia passed an order of secession on that day in April in '61. In the old days he had a place to live, clothes to wear and plenty of food. The only difference was that now he must pay for the food and clothes with money earned by serving the Taylors instead of just service to the Taylors.
Brother Johnson held the same contempt for the modern hub factory that his father before him had held.
"Noisy, highfalutin', bumptious place!" he
