"There, sah," exclaimed the negro triumphantly, "I has yoh! Yoh is
sartinly the mos' wuthless turkey on dis yere plantation."
Tightly clasping the outraged tyrant Uncle Noah tiptoed to the lantern
and blew it out. Then stumbling across the floor he stealthily left
the barn and set out across the snowy fields to a tumble-down shanty,
sole survivor of a string of negro huts long since burned one by one in
the library fireplace. Into its dilapidated interior he thrust the
protesting turkey, pausing at the door as he struck a match to view the
bird's temporary quarters.
"Now, Massa Job Fairfax," he began, "I knows yoh is jus' mad clean
through. Yoh jus' naturally objects to bein' toted out in de snow in
de middle o' de turkey night 'thout bein' asked. Yoh says yoh back is
full o' snow? Well, I jus' asks yoh, Massa Job Fairfax, ain't dat
better'n bein' wifout a head? Now, sah, I asks yoh to be mos' terrible
quiet dis yere night. I'se a-goin' into Cotesville on a little trip
an' I doan want de Colonel to know yoh here."
He closed the rickety door, and, hurrying back across the fields,
sought the kitchen, his eyes behind their spectacles shining with
excitement.
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