FOLKS FROM DIXIE
to eat?" It was a voice that might have spoken with authority. There was none of the beggar's whine in it. It was clear and straight-forward; and the man spoke the simple sentence almost as if it had been a protest against his sad condition.
"Jes' set down on the step an' git cool," answered Nelse, "an' I 'll have something put on the table."
The stranger silently did as he was bidden, and his host turned into the house.
Eliza Hatton had been quietly watching proceedings, and as her husband entered the kitchen she said, "Look a-here, Nelse, you shorely ain't a-goin' to have that tramp in the kitchen a-settin' up to the table?"
"Why, course," said Nelse; "he's human, ain't he?"
"That don't make no difference. I bet none of these white folks round here would do it."
"That ain't none of my business," answered her husband. "I believe in every person doin' their own duty. Put somethin' down on the table; the man's hungry. An' don't never git stuck up, 'Lizy; you don't know what our children have got to come to."
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