S

IS' MAME, the old obi woman, came to her door and stood idly looking down the valley. It had suddenly grown dark, and the first breath of the night wind was stirring the tops of the trees. A squall had come up before sunset, and in Love-Lady Court the dripping leaves had driven Sis' Mame's neighbors indoors. A sharper gust blew down a shower of drops, and she saw a dark form at the head of the first flight of stairs that led out of the court move in closer to the trunk of the great tamarindtree that stood there. She chuckled.

"Dar 's dat Cato erg'in," she muttered, "all togged out in his Sunday clothes, er-wantin' tow go er-co'tin' Sis' Lily May, an' dass n't. Dar he stands er-watchin' her do', but dass n't go in. Ah 'm goin' make him jump."

Moved by something of the impish mischief that colored all her actions, Sis' Mame stooped below the line of her fence, and, going softly, came up behind the man at the tree. He was peering out at the lighted doorway through which the slender form of Sis' Lily May could be seen moving about in the dimly lighted Once she turned to speak over her shoulder, and as her gay laugh floated out

room.

to them, Sis' Mame saw the shoulders of the watching man stir and she heard him. sigh. Then he stooped to the ground.

There came to them then the answering laugh of a man, and they saw Peter Bohun, the young negro overseer of the Debevoise plantation, saunter across the room and put his arm lightly about the waist of the girl. As she laughingly strove to free herself, Sis' Mame heard a sob and saw Cato launch himself toward the door like a bolt released from a spring.

Sis' Mame scuttled back through her own gateway, and, turning at the door, saw Cato's upflung arm swing forward in a swift arch; she saw him melt away in the darkness as a shrill scream broke upon her ears. Softly closing her door, she lighted a candle, then hurried to her door again, opening it noisily.

The court was already alive with shadowy forms hurrying toward the house where Sis' Lily May crouched on the floor, sobbing wildly, with her apron over her head. Her mother, dazed, stood over her, wringing her hands. Peter Bohun knelt at the girl's side. Sis' Mame pushed through the gaping crowd and leaned over the girl as he said in a broken voice:

"What 's da matter, honey? Faw da Lawd's sake! what 's da matter?"

Sis' Mame caught at the girl's apron where it hung below her face, and held it up. It was red with blood.

"Dis yerry's da matter," she cried "blood is da matter. What yo' been up tow, Peter Bohun?"

"Me!" gasped Peter, and stared at the blood-stained apron. His face grew ashen. "Yas, yo'," snapped Sis' Mame. Her foot struck something hard, and stooping, she picked up the neck and jagged half of a thick bottle, and the girl's mother began

to scream.

"Yo' Rose, hesh up yo' noise!" commanded Sis' Mame.

She put the broken bottle in her pocket and snatched at the girl's hands. The apron fell. From ringed cut about her chin and mouth the blood was streaming. Sis' Lily May turned wildly beseeching eyes up to the shocked faces about her.

"Oh, is ma face done sp'iled?" she cried. "Yen't nobody goin' tell me is it?"

She sprang to her feet and rushed to a cracked little mirror that hung on the wall, and with one agonized look dropped down to the floor again, hiding her face in her hands, and rocking back and forth. in silent despair.

Sis' Mame took charge. She bound up the girl's wounds, and sternly began to question the girl's mother and Peter Bohun. They could tell her little.

"Lily May was er-laughin', an' den she screamed an' dropped down on da flo' lak yo' seen" That was the whole story.

Sis' Mame questioned the neighbors, but learned nothing. They had come at the girl's cry. Sis' Mame nodded gravely.

"Dat 's lak me as two peas," she declared. "Ah was er-settin' by ma fire, er-broodin' on da worl' an' its sorrers, an' Ah hear dat gal yelp lak dat. Quare doin's some'ers. Quare doin's." She looked keenly about upon the huddle of dark, excited faces as she added significantly: "An' Ah 'm er-goin' make it ma business tow find out what dem doin's is, yas, seh, an' find 'em out in ma own way. Ah yen't er-goin' tow hab ma peace broke in no sich er way lak dis. Now, obbe yo' [all of you] scatter, an' scatter mighty quick."

It was not Sis' Mame's way to be direct; she came to her results by devious, occult methods. For a week she said nothing, then one morning all Love-Lady Court knew that she had at last had a sign. It was said that she had seen the face of the thrower of the bottle in the steam that rose from her brazier as she worked a hoodoo spell. It was known that the brazier had contained the bottle and a drop of Sis' Lily May's blood, but what "conjure" mixture it had also held Sis' Mame of course had not disclosed. She was eagerly asked the man's name.

"Who said it was er man?" she asked dryly. "Who said Ah seen er face? But dat spell is er-workin', an' dat pusson 's er-goin' tow come er-crawlin' tow ma foots in sorrer. An' obbe yo' 's goin' tow know, faw some day he 's er-goin' tow look down an' see his shader red on da groun'-red lak blood. In moonshine an' sunshine dar 'll it be. He's er-goin' tow

wear da mark o' sin."

Meanwhile no one saw Sis' Lily May's face. She had been a light-hearted girl, proud of her comeliness, but now, in her sick apprehension of defacing scars, she gave herself up to despair. She never went beyond her own door, and about the house she wore a thick, black veil. Though all her admirers made light of her fear, to all she gave the same answer:

"Obbe yo' wait. Mebby Ah won't nebber mah'y nobody. Ah sholy won't mah'y nobody what 'll be 'shamed o' me. Ah cyan't stand dat nohow. Obbe yo' wait twel Ah show ma face."

"What do Ah care faw dem marks?" Peter Bohun would protest. "Dem yen't yo', honey. It's yo' Ah lub; an', what 's mo', Ah guess dat bottle was meant faw me; yas, seh. Yo' think Ah 'm goin' let yo' sacerfice yo'se'f faw me dat er-way? No, honey. We 'll go da same road hand in hand: yo' wear dem marks on yo' face, an' Ah 'll wear yo' on ma heart."

But Sis' Lily May, sittin' far from the candle-light, shook her veiled head.

"Yo''ll see dem marks, but Ah won't see yo' heart," she replied. "How Ah know yo' heart yen't er-goin' tow change? No,

Ah got tow be sure, an' Ah cyan't be sure. O ma Lawd!" She broke into a sob and ran from the room.

Then one night Cato came down from his home far up on the slope of King Hill to visit her. He was a worker in the sugarhouses and lived alone. A small, shy man, he had never been known as a lover of Sis' Lily May, and only Sis' Mame had seen him creeping up the stairs night after night to gaze at the girl from afar. He bore a good reputation in the community, and he had a pleasant face, with the pleading, faithful eyes of a dog. As he entered the room with a hesitating, deferential step, and a disturbed look on his face, Sis' Lily May

a star that had gone out. Her heart warmed to him with sympathy.

"Dat 's jes how Ah feel-lak Ah was dead," she said tremulously.

"Ah reckon dat pusson what hurt yo' wishes he was dead, too," he replied. "He nebber meant tow do dat, Ah know."

looked up with a touch of pleased surprise. He had viewed her beauty and gaiety unmoved, she thought, but now at the touch of disfiguring misfortune had sought her for herself alone. In his eyes she read both sympathy and love, with a sort of distressed humility. For the first time since her injury she felt at ease in the presence of a visitor.

"Sis' Lily May," he said as he took his seat on the far side of the room, "Ah 'm mighty sorry faw yo' sorrer. Seems lak Ah 'd lak tow take it on mase'f. Seems so."

"But yo' cyan't," she replied sadly; "an' Ah doan' know 's Ah wants anybody takin' ma troubles on hisse'f, an' yo' yen't no call tow take 'em."

"T would be er joy," he answered in a low voice. "Ah done been see yo' lak a star faw many er long day; seems lak dat star 's done gone out now."

In a way the thought was Sis' Lily May's own; she, too, felt that she was like

"Sis' Mame she says he 's er-goin' tow come er-crawlin' tow her foots, an' we-all 's goin' tow see him," she said eagerly, with a kind of childlike awe; but Ah doan' want tow see him-er man lak dat. Ah 'd be scairt stiff."

He looked up at her questioningly, a furrow of anxiety wrinkling his brow. "How come Sis' Mame tow know dat?" he asked. "She 's conjured

him," she replied; "an' what 's mo', he 's goin' tow cas' er red shader, she says. He 's goin' tow wear da mark o' sin."

"Ah reckon he wears it now, in his heart," he replied. He tried to smile skeptically as he added, "Yo' cyant bliebe all Sis' Mame says."

But fear possessed his soul, and he pushed his chair back close to the wall and wondered whether his shadow showed in the dim candle-light of the room. He no longer cared to stay, but dared not move, and presently visitors began to arrive and held him, through fear of their sharp eyes, to his place. Silent, in misery, he waited.

The room was full of people when later in the evening Sis' Mame appeared at the door. She ducked her head and laughed.

"Any room faw a' ol' bag o' bones lak me?" she called gaily. She stepped heavily over the sill, and leaning against the wall, glanced toward Sis' Lily May's veiled face, "How yo' is, honey gal?" she asked tenderly. "Ah looked outen ma do' an' seen

obbe dese dolesome faces, an' says Ah tow mase'f, ‘Am 'm er-goin' over dar an chirk dat gal up an' make her laugh. Her face 'll git sot in sorrer when it heals, with obbe dem sad mourners er-settin' roun'.'

She sidled into the room with a funny little hitching step, humming a gay tune as she advanced; but as she neared the middle of the room, her tall, gaunt form suddenly stiffened into immobility, and her keen eyes glanced about her. "Sin 's done come in da do'," she said harshly"sin 's done come in. Ah feel it in ma ol' bones, col' an' shibbery, lak er grabe."

A little tremor of nervous excitement ran through the crowded room, and the visitors glanced furtively at one another; but Sis' Lily May threw her apron over her veiled head and began to sob.

"O Sis' Mame, doan' let it come!" she wailed. "Seems lak Ah cyan't stan' it." "Tow late now, chile," Sis' Mame snapped. "What 's come, is come, an' shettin' yo' eyes won't make it go.'

She walked to the table, and, taking up two lighted candles that stood there, carried them to the front of the room and set them on a shelf by the open door. Then she walked back to the middle of the room. In the deathlike stillness she stood rigid, like one in a trance. To the strained eyes of the watchers her face seemed gradually to take on all the aspects of death itself. Her eyes were open, but in their unblinking fixedness of gaze there was neither sight nor intelligence; her jaw had dropped; an ashen grayness overspread her face; its wrinkled ridges looked hard, like stone. For a long time she stood thus, and then slowly, almost imperceptibly, life seemed to flow back in a tiny trickle. Her arms twitched; now and then she moaned like one in pain; and presently her whole body was in motion-motion that seemed apart from volition, and which gradually increased until her frail form seemed the vehicle of unconscious frenzy.

Her eyes were blazing now as she whirled rhythmically in a wild dance that kept time to a low-hummed accompaniment. The accompaniment grew louder, a clearly enunciated series of sounds that

were yet unintelligible. Then suddenly she broke into a chanted song:

One man passed frough da needle's eye (O sinner, doan' yo' see da do'?) On da flo' see his shader lie (Sinner, sinner, come no mo'!).

Shader o' blood an' heart o' sin (O sinner, doan' yo' see da do'!), Go frough da do' dat yo' come in (Sinner, sinner, come no mo'!).

Still dancing, she pointed a finger at Peter Bohun, imperiously waving him out.

Scowling, he hesitated; but something about that grimly pointing finger and gaunt form, with all the traditional dread of Sis' Mame's mystical power, bore down his resistance, and rising slowly at last, he slunk away. His face showed both resentment and apprehension, but no one heeded: all eyes were turned toward his shadow as it darkened across the dirt floor. A sigh of relief ran through the company, and all eyes again turned toward Sis' Mame, for the shadow was not red.

She herself had not turned toward it, and still dancing, she now took up her chant again, and again at its close waved a man out. He went swaggeringly, and a hysterical giggle ran through the company. With swaying bodies and tapping feet, many were now keeping time to Sis' Mame's dance. Occasionally a deep-toned "Um-la! um-la!" made a halting accompaniment to her shrill, staccato song. With an upward fling of her arms, one woman sprang to her feet with a wild cry, and fell in a huddled heap to the floor, and lay there, sobbing. A few ran out, and stood together in a whispering group in the darkness outside the door.

Sis' Mame, wholly unheeding, went on with her song, which she now hurried through, rapidly emptying the room until one visitor alone remained. With his chair still pushed close against the wall, Cato sat with dull eyes of terror. Now and then his lips moved stiffly. As Sis' Mame began her song for the last time, he turned his beseeching eyes for a moment toward

Sis' Lily May, who had nervously risen from her chair.

She saw his look, and something of the friendly sympathy with which she had greeted him on his first coming now stirred in her heart anew at sight of his manifest agony. Furthermore, she had reached the breaking-point of endurance. With a quick dash she ran to the door, blew out the candles, and, turning, cried:

"Da red shader! See! Dar on da house!" With a chill clutch of terror at his heart, Cato turned to look over his shoulder as Sis' Lily May struck the match from the man's hand. As the sudden darkness fell, a groan rose from the throng.

Cato rightly interpreted the groan as the voice of avenging rage, and his heart turned to water. With a moan he darted along by the house and leaped down the

He rose hesitatingly and stumbled toward the door, where Sis' Lily May stood impatiently waiting. Sis' Mame, still chanting her song in the darkness behind him, had not moved.

"It doan' seem fair to go now, Sis' Lily May," he said falteringly. "Obbe dem friends o' yo's has had dar chance, an' if dat shader is dar, dar it is, an' seems lak I orter stay an' show it. Ah doan' want tow shirk no sorrer-faw yo' sake, chile." She pushed him over the sill, crying: "Faw da Lawd's sake, go!"

As he stumbled down the step and for an instant halted in doubtful distress, a derisive shout rose from the waiting crowd outside. The whole court had gathered before the house, now moved by superstition and fear to a mood of ugly resent

ment.

Some one threw a stone that struck Cato on the shoulder, and he turned. "Who done dat?" he called, but was answered by jeers, and the crowd, pushing forward, began to hustle him about. His terror now took on a new form—a fight for his life, and with the strength of frenzied fear he struck about him, trying to force his way through the press.

Beaten back under a rain of blows from all sides, he fell across the sill. As he sprang to his feet, Sis' Lily May leaped to his side, and threw out her arms.

"Yen't yo' 'shamed!" she screamed. "Yo' wan' tow kill him? Den kill me with him. He nebber done nuttin' tow me. Nebber."

In the momentary hesitation that Sis' Lily May's intercession caused, a man in front of the crowd struck a match. As the flame sputtered before Cato's face, he drew back, and a woman screamed:

They heard him crash into the thick shrubbery below, and with a wild shout the men took up the pursuit, swarming down the wall and taking the stairs at the foot of the court.

They did not find him. Baffled and perplexed, they returned in straggling groups to the court, and again gathered before Sis' Lily May's house, now closed and dark. Against the door, inside, Sis' Lily May sat and listened. Through the crowd Sis' Mame sidled, gay and voluble.

"Mebby ol' man Satan cotched him," once she said, with a cackling laugh. "Seems lak dat red shader was ol' man Satan's tail."

"If Ah git ma hands on dat boy, dat tail won't twitch no mo'," a tall negro said grimly.

Sis' Mame had her own uses for Cato and the red shadow, and she strode up to the man and shook a finger in his face.

"Yo' Mark, yo' hear me now. Yo' let dat Cato erlone," she said warningly. "Yo' leab him tow sin. Sin an' sorrer 'll take care of him. An' yo' want tow git dat spell put on yo', does yo'? Yo' goin' tow if yo' doan't watch out. Yo' hear?" She brought her face close to his, and before the threatening gleam of her eyes the man's gaze wavered.

It was long after midnight, and the court had long since given itself over to sleep, when there came a low knock at Sis' Mame's door. She opened it almost at once. Cato stood there.

"Dat yo', boy?" she said genially. "Come in. Come in. Seems lak Ah knew da spi'ts was er-wanderin' erbout; Ah could n't shet ma eyes."

He limped stiffly over the threshold, and