And it's the man you've got to live
with, not his money."
"Ollie's good, Daddy," she returned in a low voice, her eyes fixed
upon the floor.
"I know, I know," replied Jim. "He wouldn't do nobody no harm;
he's good enough that way, and I ain't a faultin' him. But you
ought to have a MAN, a sure enough good man."
"But tell me, Daddy, why ain't we got no folks?"
The faintest glimmer of a smile came into the dark face; "You're
sure growed up, girl; you're sure growed up, girl; you sure are.
An' I reckon you might as well know." Then he told her.
CHAPTER IX.
SAMMY LANE'S FOLKS.
It began on a big southern plantation, where there were several
brothers and sisters, with a gentleman father of no little pride,
and a lady mother of equal pride and great beauty.
With much care for detail, Jim drew a picture of the big mansion
with its wide lawns, flower gardens and tree bordered walks; with
its wealth of culture, its servants, and distinguished guests;
for, said he, "When you get to be a fine lady, you ought to know
that you got as good blood as the best of the thorough-breds." And
Sammy, interrupting his speech with a kiss, bade him go on with
his story.
Then he told how the one black sheep of that proud southern flock
had been cast forth from the beautiful home while still hardly
grown; and how, with his horse, gun and violin, the wanderer had
come into the heart of the Ozark wilderness, when the print of
moccasin feet was still warm on the Old Trail.
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