Folding his straw hat into a battered cone,
he watched anxiously for the delivery of the card. He was not sure
what Aunt Missouri's attitude might be if it were laid on her. He bent
down to his companion. "Go ahead," he whispered. "Lay the card."
Abner raised appealing eyes. "In a minute. Give me time," he pleaded.
"Mars' Ross--Mars' Ross! Head 'em off!" sounded a yell, and Babe, the
house-boy, came around the porch in pursuit of two half-grown
chickens.
"Help him, Rossie," prompted Aunt Missouri, sharply. "You boys can
stay to supper and have some of the chicken if you help catch them."
Had Ross taken time to think, he might have reflected that gentlemen
making formal calls seldom join in a chase after the main dish of the
family supper. But the needs of Babe were instant. The lad flung
himself sidewise, caught one chicken in his hat, while Babe fell upon
the other in the manner of a football player. Ross handed the pullet
to the house-boy, fearing that he had done something very much out of
character, then pulled the reluctant negro toward to the steps.
"Babe's a servant," he whispered to Abner, who had sat rigid through
the entire performance.
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