FOLKS FROM DIXIE
did not extend his hand to take the gift. "Clarinda Randolph," he said, "always sends me gloves." His tone was not angry, but it was cold and sorrowful. "Lay it down," he went on more kindly and pointing to the comforter, "and you may go now. I will get whatever I want from the table." Ike did not dare to demur. He slipped away, embarrassed and distressed.
"Wha' 'd I tell you?" he asked Lize, as soon as he reached the cabin. "I believe he done woke up." But the old woman could only mourn and wring her hands.
"Well, nevah min'," said Ike, after his first moment of sad triumph was over. "I guess it was n't the comfo't nohow, 'ca'se I seed him wif a letteh when I went in, but I did n't 'spicion nuffin' tell he look at me an' talk jes' ez sensible ez me er you."
It was not until dinner-time that Ike found courage to go back to his master's room, and then he did not find him sitting in his accustomed place, nor was he on the porch or in the hall. Growing alarmed, the old servant searched high and low for him, until he came to the door of a long-disused room. A bundle of keys hung from the keyhole.
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