“Drap me at de Hen-Scratch,” Little Bit begged. “I ain’t got de cornstitution to ride no furder.”
Skeeter drove to Gaitskill’s home, lifted Org out of the machine and carried him to the porch. Org promptly stretched out flat on his back on the porch floor and called:
“Gince! Oh, Gince! Come here and help me! I’m dying!”
Coming in answer to his call, Miss Virginia’s face at first assumed an expression of fright at the sight of Org, then, glancing at Skeeter’s grinning mug, her uneasiness vanished.
“What have you been doing?” she asked Org.
“Smoking,” Org confessed. “Smoking a pipe!”
Org thrust a trembling hand into the pocket of his coat and produced the briar-root.
“The idea!” Miss Virginia snapped, looking at the pipe with loathsome repugnance. “What else have you in your pockets? Let me see!”
Org turned the pockets of his trousers wrong side out and a number of strange and nameless things rolled out, things which could have value only in the eyes of a boy.
“Turn out your coat pockets!” Virginia commanded.
Org thrust his hand into his coat and handed Virginia a green-plush box.
The eyes of Skeeter Butts nearly popped out of his head.
“For goodness’ sake!” Virginia exclaimed in an angry voice as she seized the box.
“I was carrying it for luck, Gince,” Org said apologetically. “Little Bit said it was lucky, but—oh, I feel so sick!”
Virginia opened the box and brought forth a rabbit-foot surmounted on one end with silver. Finding that it had not been injured, she spoke in a mollified tone:
“After this, you understand that this plush box is mine, young man! Don’t you ever touch it again!”
“Skeeter,” she said. “Carry Org up-stairs to my room. I’ll lead the way.”
Skeeter lifted the prostrate boy and carried him where his sister led. He lingered around the bed where he had placed Org until he saw Miss Virginia open the drawer of a dressing-table and place the green-plush box within it and shut the drawer.
“You wants me to git de dorctor, Miss Virginny?” Skeeter asked.
“No. That will be all for you, thank you.”
When Skeeter stepped out upon the road beside the house, he noticed Colonel Gaitskill out in the horse-pasture, walking around in a circle defined by a clump of grass, his eyes glued upon the ground as if he was hunting for something.