The Irish standard., 1916-02-12

large rooms, empty, save one where
a big bed, wash-stand, and an old
bureau with mildewcd glass, were
grouped like an oasis in desert They
reached the kitchen. 1t was evidently
the living room of the house. A ham,
mock cut off one corner. Chairs were
drawn up to a rough, uncovered table.
A stove was built into the masonry
and cavernous oven gaped from the
massive wall.
At the stove was an old ncsress.
making coffee with shaky delibcration.
On the floor sat an old darky clad
only from his waist down in such trou-
sers as Gerry was wearing, except
that they were soiled and tatteretl.
He looked up and fastened his eyes
on Gerry and then struggled to his
feet. Dim recollections Of some by
gone white master brought gleam
into his bcary eyes. He raised his
hand in the national gesture of child
to parent, slave tO master. "Blessing.
master, blessing" Gerry had learned
the meaning Of the quaint custom.
"GOd bless thee" he answered lin
badly jumbled Portuguese. The girl
and the wrinkled woman looked at
him, surprised, and then smiled Mt
each other as women smile mt the first
steps Of child.
They made him sit down Mt the
table and placed before him crisp
rusks of manioc flour and steaming
coffee whose splendid aroma tri-
umphed over the sordidncss Of the
scene and through the nostrls reached
the palate with anticipntory touch.
1t was sweetened with dark. pungent
sirup and was served black in capa-
cious bowl. as though one could not
drink too deeply of the elixir of life.
Gerry ate ravenously and slipped the
coffee, at first sparingy, then greedily.
The old negress huttered nervously
about the stove, nursing it's inadequate
fire Of charcoal. Her eyes were big
with wonder at the capacity of the
white master. Tho old negro had sunk
back to his seat on the floor The two
white women stood and watched Ger.
ry. The more he ate the more they
urged.
Gerry set down the empty bowl with
a sigh. The rusks had been delicious.
Before the coffee the name of nectar
dwindled to impotency. Its elixir riot
ed in his veins. At the sigh the girl
had deftly rolled a cigarette in n bit
Of corn husk, scrapcd thin as paper.
Now she slipped 1t into his fingers.
The old negress picked up live coal
and, passing 1t from shaky hand to
shaky hand, deposited It on his plate.
Gerry lit the cigarette. With the first
long contented Whit he smiled. The
smile brought stinging recollection.
With frown he threw away the clga-
rettc and rose from the table 1.-THE
brute is fed and laughs" he said aloud
and strobe from the room. The girl
and the little wrinkled woman looked
at each other in dismay They seemed
to sense the unintelligible words. The
old darky crawled across the floor and
possessed himself of the cigarette.
Gerry went to seat himself on the
steps Of the veranda. Before him
stretched the fallow valley, beyond II
cleaned the black line of the rushing
river. To the right were the ruins of
sugar mill and stables. TO the left
the debris that once had been slaves
quarters. The fields still bore the hum
mocks. In rough alignment, that told
! the story Of past years fruitful in
cane. All was waste. all was ruin.
The girl slipped to seat beside him.
She rolled a fresh cigarette and then
! sbyly laid small brown hand on his
arm. Gerry looked at her. Her big
brown eyes were sorrowful and plead
ing. She held out the cigarette with
little shrug that deprecated the small
ness of the Offering.
Gerry felt a twinge of remorse. He
! patted the hand that lay on his arm,
amf1od on6 fook tho c{Oo rotfo Tho