THE COLONEL'S AWAKENING
"Hyeah's whah he got dat letteh," said Ike. "I reckon he come to put it back." But even as he spoke, his eyes bulged with apprehension. He opened the door farther, and went in. And there at last his search was ended. Colonel Estridge was on his knees before an old oak chest. On the floor about him were scattered pair on pair of home-knit gloves. He was very still. His head had fallen forward on the edge of the chest. Ike went up to him and touched his shoulder. There was no motion in response. The black man lifted his master's head. The face was pale and cold and lifeless. In the stiffening hand was clenched a pair of gloves,—the last Miss Randolph had ever really knit for him. The servant lifted up the lifeless form, and laid it upon the bed. When Lize came she would have wept and made loud lamentations, but Ike checked her. "Keep still," he said. "Pray if you want to, but don't hollah. We ought to be proud, Lize." His shoulders were thrown back and his head was up. "Mas' Bob's in glory. Dis is Virginia's Christmas gif' to Gawd!"
79
