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Only on the Colonel's last birthday she had turned him over her knee in good earnest, because he imbibed too many heel-taps to wait upon the table. So, resorting to diplomacy, he assumed a wise air and hinted that he might not be so untrustworthy as she had been misled to believe that, indeed, he was the possessor of a startling piece of news. This mollified Aunt Timmie.
When Timmie O'Shea was lost on Armogosa Flats for three days without water, Long Tom Basset found him, not by any trail, but by making straight away for the points where he saw buzzards stooping. He could hear the beat of their wings, Tom said, and trod on their shadows, but O'Shea was past recalling what he thought about things after the second day.
"Well, my dear, I gathered from Timmie that Brent, not once but twice, offered the same service most handsomely." "Cut it!" Brent, flushing, whispered savagely across at him. "One may always depend upon a gentleman," she drew herself up with dignity, "to meet any situation!" "Then it is not a question of class, but of being a gentleman, that should decide," the Colonel chuckled.
The Colonel stood a great deal from Timmie and Zack, for much less than a tenth of which he would have sent another negro off his place in double quick. "Who is the lady?" he asked, not over pleased at her humor. "Nem'min' who de lady is! But she's a suah-footed, elegant an' lovely angel, dat's got moh human kindness in her den anyone I sees a-lookin' at me!"
I ain' gwine give you no staht! You'se wuss'n a gal!" "Why ain' you gwine give him no staht?" an indignant voice called, and, turning, he beheld Aunt Timmie leaning against the house complacently regarding them. "Of course you'll give him a start!" the Colonel thundered, thereby showing to what extent he had been reading during the past half hour.
In the uncertain glimmer of light cast by the shaded kerosene lamp, sat the doctor, Bradford and Aunt Timmie, each with eyes on the little sufferer. They did not look up, and he passed through, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing down with the others at the pitiful scene. Nor did they realize he was there until his deep voice drawled: "Brent says you want healthy skin."
"So we is twins," the old woman asserted, "but dat don' keep me from bein' a widder, do it?" "The fact of the matter is, Brent," Colonel May said with a twinkle about his eyes, "it requires stupendous acumen to understand this situation. Timmie and Zack were born on the same day, at precisely the same hour, and in adjoining cabins. So that makes them twins. I hope you follow me?"
It took ten minutes to get the celebration once more in running order, and Aunt Timmie brought to a better understanding. The little boy advanced into the circle, placed a fire cracker in the grass, and lit it. But, with the first sputtering of its fuse, the old negress clasped him to her breast and rushed out of harm's way.
"Git in dar-ar churn of yoh'n an' go dis minit to Tom Hewlet's house, den tell Miss Nancy ole Timmie say we'se countin' on her! She'll come, too! Make haste now, man!" The noise of his little machine was growing faint, when the door opened and Brent stood on the threshold. "Where's Stone, Aunt Timmie?"
So now, when the men arrived, she was facing them, frowning as an indignant, inexpugnable black executioner. "Good morning, Timmie," said the Colonel, starting to enter, but she blocked the doorway, announcing: "You-alls cyarn' come in! Dar's a lady 'sleep in heah!" "How is Mesmie?" he asked. "She's in mighty bad shape, dat's how she is!"
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