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PGA i|H Hi $5k
Swords and Hearts
(Biograph)
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By LULIETTE BRYANT
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" /^> ood-by, father. ' ' Vj "Good-by, my son; God keep yon safe."
Neither man conld trust himself to say more. There was one swift, affectionate look, a long handshake, and Hugh Frazier, tall and soldierly in his gray uniform, turned quickly away and strode down the gravel path to the gate. There he turned and stood for a moment, looking silently at the home he was leaving.
Like all Southerners, Hugh Frazier loved the home of his birth with a deep, passionate devotion. The low, rambling house with its vinedraped porches and shining white pillars, the gray roofs of the servants' quarters in the rear, the freshly cut tobacco fields stretching away to meet a fringe of woods, the gardens with their wealth of old-fashioned roses and honeysuckle, typified to him kindred, love, honor, all that made life dear. His gaze rested lingeringly upon his father, standing at the open door, erect, fine-featured, white-haired, proudly watching his only son go out to battle with the foes that threatened their beloved Southland.
As Hugh looked, a long-past scene swept back to him. There he was, a tiny, red-cheeked lad playing upon the gravel walk. His father, young, black-haired, vigorous, stood by the steps, laughing at his childish antics, and beside his father was a delicate, dark-eyed woman in a clinging white gown, one arm full of crimson roses, the other stretched caressingly toward the child. Then the picture changed and the lad, in somber garments, clung to his father's hand in awed wonder, as they followed a rose-laden coffin down the gravel walk.
The waiting horse neighed impatiently and Hugh came back to the
present, vaulted into the saddle and spoke to the aged negro who had stood holding the rein.
"Take care of father, Uncle Tom," he said. "I feel uneasy about these rumors of bushwhacker raids. Has he got much'money in the house ? ' '
"He's got two bags of gold, sah, dat dem gem 'men from de city brung fo' de tobacco crop. I don' like to pester yo' pa, Marse Hugh, but it worries me."
"But no one knows that he has the gold, I hope."
"Dat's jest it, sah. De mornin' dem gem 'men brung dat gold, dat lazy, no 'count Baker, what libs in de cabin by de aidge ob de woods, was here with his gal, Jennie, sellin' berries. I wasn't roun' jest den, an' one ob dem trinin' niggers in de house tol' him to knock on yo' pa's door to git de money. He did, an' yo' know how yo' pa am — no mo' suspicious ob nobody dan a babe in a'ms. He jest natchelly let dat Baker in where all dat gold was counted out on de table, while ho looked fo' de change. I feel mighty worried. It's a pow'ful lot of 'sponsibility f o * one ole nigger to take care ob mas'r an' dis place."
JENNIE AND HER FATHER
58