He put the plate down with a swift glance around for his hat. He foundit, and strode to the door, following the girl. The two hurried out intothe street, followed by indistinct strictures from the kitchen. Cissiebreathed rapid, with open lips. They moved rapidly along the semicircularstreet almost with a sense of flight. The heat of the early autumn sunstung them through their clothes. For some distance they strode in anervous silence, then Cissie exclaimed:

"Your mother certainly hates me, Peter."

"No," said Peter, trying to soften the situation; "it's me; she'sterribly hurt about--" he nodded to-ward the black section--"thatbusiness."

Cissie opened her clear brown eyes.

"Your own mother turned against you!"

"0h, she has a right to be," began Peter, defensively. "I ought to haveread that deed. It's amazing I didn't, but I--I really wasn't expectinga trick, Mr. Hooker seemed so--so sympathetic--" He came to a lame halt,staring at the dust through which they picked their way.

"0f course you weren't expecting tricks!" cried Cissie, hotly. "Thewhole thing shows you're a gentleman used to dealing with gentlemen. Butof course these Hooker's Georged negroes will never look at that!"

Peter, surprised and grateful, glanced at Cissie. Her construction of theswindle was more flattering than any apology he had been able to framefor himself.

"Still, Cissie, I ought to have used the greatest care--"

"I'm not talking about what you 'ought,'" stated the octoroon, crisply;"I'm talking about what you are. When it comes to 'ought,' we colowhitepeople must get what we can, any way we can. We fight from the bottom."The speech held a viperish quality which for a moment caught the brownman's attention; then he exclaimed: