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Just ahead a girl appeared from the shadows and walked quickly toward the waiting-room. Uncle Noah looked into her fresh, sweet face; then his own lit up with renewed hope and he followed her in and touched her timidly on the arm. The girl turned, revealing a face rosy with cold, and a pair of warm gray eyes fringed in lashes of black, eyes that frankly offered a glimpse of a girl's impulsive heart brimming over with Christmas spirit.
Uncle Noah removed the battered fur cap and bowed low with the deference of a Cavalier. "I'se jus' come in to--to ask yoh, Miss," he said simply, "if yoh'd like to buy an ol' nigger servant. I'se foh sale."
"For sale!" The girl took in the quaint figure with a glance of blank astonishment. "Why," she gasped, "surely you--"
"I'se ol', Miss," he interrupted timidly, but meeting her gaze with unwavering sincerity; "I specs I'se mos' a hundred; but I'se powahful tough an' full o' work, an'--an', Miss, I has to sell maself tonight 'cause--'cause--"
Uncle Noah paused uncertainly, seeking a fit expression of his dilemma, and the girl, readily intuitive, glanced swiftly about to assure herself that the waiting-room was free from unsympathetic eavesdroppers. Then, strangely drawn by this quaint old vender of humanity, and warmly eager to put him more at his ease, she impulsively pushed a rocking-chair toward the old stove in the center and motioned him to be seated. But Uncle Noah had been reared in the Fairfax family, and a Fairfax never sat when a lady was still upon her feet. With a courtly gesture the old man bowed her to the chair she had drawn for him. A quick gleam of approval flashed in the gray eyes and with a deepening flush of puzzled interest, the girl instantly seated herself, unfastening the silver fox at her throat as she felt the warmth of the old country stove.
"Please, I would so much rather you, too, would sit down," she said impulsively, and as Uncle Noah drew forward another of the rickety old rocking-chairs with which the Cotesville waiting-room was dotted, she bent toward him--a light in the wonderful gray eyes that won Uncle Noah's heart.
"Tell me," she said kindly: "Tell me just why you want to sell yourself."
No, she had not laughed at him. Uncle Noah glowed to the tips of his fingers at the ready sympathy of her tone. He beamed mildly at her over his spectacles, turning the old fur cap round and round in his hands as he sought to voice the words that struggled to his lips. "Ol' Massa's money--an', Miss, he hain't had much since de War; jus' 'nuff to live comfutable--all go in de Cotesville bank crash las' fall an' he doan want ol' Mis' foh to know. I'se de only one o' de niggers whut's left, an' dere's only one ol' turkey gobbler left o' de stock. He's my ol' pet, Miss, mos' like a chile, an'--an'--" Uncle Noah choked.
The girl's eyes were misty velvet. "And he told you to kill your pet for the Christmas dinner?" she finished gently.
Uncle Noah nodded. "Massa done say we mus' hab a turkey for de Christmas dinner, or ol' Mis'll suspect de--de financial crisis whut we're in. Out in de barn I prays foh an inspiration an' I 'spect it come."
"And so you decided to sell yourself--" began the girl.
"Yas'm." Uncle Noah's voice had grown apologetic. "Yoh see, Miss, I'se de only thing whut I really owns 'cept dis yere ol' stickpin. Cose I'se free now, but I reckons if I has a mind to sell maself de Norf can't stop me. I'se sellin' ma own property." There was a gentle defiance in the old negro's argument.
"And you--you wouldn't accept a--a loan?" The girl flushed.
The negro's hurt eyes were answer enough. Uncle Noah had not lived in an atmosphere permeated with Fairfax pride without feeling its influence.
"I'se not askin' foh charity, Miss," he averred stubbornly. "I'se a-sellin' sumthin'. I reckons if yoh buy me, Miss, an' yoh lemme go back an' stay Christmas wif ol' Massa, I'll sell maself cheap. Yoh see I'se a-plannin' first to buy a turkey whut'll take Job's place on de platter, an' den to give de Massa a gran' Christmas wif de rest o' de money what I gits foh maself, savin' out jus' enough to buy ma ol' turkey an' come to yoh first day after Christmas. It'll be hard to leave ol' Massa and Mis', but I reckons it's jus' gotta be done."
Uncle Noah gulped and blinked, and there was a glimmer of wet lashes about the warm gray eyes that had won his heart.
The girl was silent so long that Uncle Noah shifted uneasily; but at last she spoke a little tremulously. "For what price will you sell yourself?" she asked, and Uncle Noah never doubted but that she regarded the purchase in the same light in which he himself had viewed it.
He turned about for his purchaser's thorough inspection, his bald head above the fringe of white wool about it glistening in the lamplight. "Do yoh think I'se wuth, say, twenty-five dollahs?" he queried, regarding her fixedly over his spectacles.
The girl touched her throat with an unconscious gesture. "Yes, you are," she cried impulsively; "you are indeed!" And before Uncle Noah had quite time to adjust himself to the joy of his unique sale the girl thrust a roll of bills into his hands and disappeared through the station door.