dancing at her heels, tumbled themselves out where Frale sat.

Scattering her crusts as she ran, she darted back, calling: “Papa, papa! A man’s come. He’s here.” The small dog further emphasized the fact by barking fiercely at the intruder, albeit from a safe distance.

“Yas,” said Carrie, as the bishop came out, led by his little daughter, “he b’en hyar sence long fo’ sun-up.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” he said sternly.

“Sho — how I know anybody wan’ see yo, hangin’ ‘roun’ de back do’? He ain’ say nuthin’, jes’ set dar.” She continued muttering her crusty dislike of tramps, as the