"Oh, you can get rid of Minerva all right!"

"For de Lord sake, des tell me how!"

Tom bent toward him and spoke in low tones:

"All you've got to do if Minerva gets you in a tight place is to confess your real love and ask her to help you out as a friend."

Andy looked puzzled a moment and then a light broke over his dusky face:

"Dat's a fine plan, Mister Tom. You saved er n.i.g.g.e.r's life--I'll do dat sho!"

"As for Cleo, I can't do anything for you, but I won't do anything against you."

"Thankee, sah! Thankee, sah!"

When Tom reached the door he paused and said:

"I might consent to consult with the undertaker about the funeral and act as one of your pall-bearers."

Andy waved him away with a suppressed laugh:

"G'way frum here, Mister Tom! G'way frum here!"

The negro returned to the mirror, adjusted his suit and after much effort succeeded in fixing a new scarfpin of a horseshoe design in the centre of the bow of one of Norton's old-fashioned black string ties. He dusted his shoes, smoothed as many of the kinks out of his hair as a vigorous rubbing could accomplish, and put the last touches on his elaborate preparations for a meeting with Cleo that was destined to be a memorable one in her life.

CHAPTER X

THE BEST LAID PLANS

Andy's plans for a speedy conquest of Cleo were destined to an interruption. Minerva had decided that he was the best man in sight for a husband, and made up her mind to claim her own. She had noticed of late a disposition on his part to dally with Cleo, and determined to act immediately. Breakfast was well under way and she had heard Andy's unctous laugh in the library with Tom.

She put on her sweeping ap.r.o.n, took up a broom and entered under the pretense of cleaning the room.

Andy was still chuckling with joy over the brilliant plan of escape suggested by Tom. He had just put the finishing touches on his necktie, and was trying on an old silk hat when Minerva's voice caused him to suddenly collapse.

"Say, man, is dat a hat er a bee-gum?" she cried, with a laugh so jolly it would have been contagious but for Andy's terror.

He looked at her, dropped the hat, picked it up and stammered:

"W-w-why--Miss Minerva, is dat you?"

Minerva beamed on him tenderly, placed her broom in the corner and advanced quickly to meet him:

"I knowed ye wuz 'spectin me frum de way yer wuz gettin' ready." She laughed and chuckled with obvious coquetry, adding coyly:

"I knows how yer feel----"

Andy looked for a way of escape. But Minerva was too quick for him. She was a woman of enormous size, fat, jolly and extremely agile for her weight.

She carried her two hundred and fifty pounds without apparent effort. She walked with a nervous, snappy energy and could waltz with the grace of a girl of sixteen.

She had reached Andy's side before his dull brain could think of an excuse for going. Her shining coal-black face was aglow with tenderness and the determination to make things easy for him in the declaration of love she had planned that he should make.

"I know how yer feels, Brer Andy," she repeated.

The victim mopped his perspiring brow and stammered:

"Ya.s.sam--ya.s.sam."

"Yer needn't be so 'barra.s.sed, Mr. Andy," Minerva went on in the most insinuating tones. "Yer kin say what's on yer mind."

"Ya.s.sam."

"Come right here and set down er minute."

She seized his hand and drew him with a kittenish skip toward a settee, tripped on a bear rug and would have fallen had not Andy grabbed her.

"De Lord save us!" he gasped. He was trying desperately in his new suit to play the gentleman under difficulties.

Minerva was in ecstasy over his gallantry:

"Yer sho wuz terrified less I git hurt, Mr. Andy," she laughed. "I thought dat bar had me sho."

Andy mopped his brow again and glanced longingly at the door:

"Ya.s.sam, I sho wuz terrified--I'm sorry m'am, you'll hatter 'scuse me.

Mister Tom's out dar waitin' fer me, an' I hatter go----"

Minerva smilingly but firmly pulled him down on the seat beside her:

"Set right down, Mr. Andy, an' make yoself at home. We got er whole half hour yet 'fore de odder folks come down stairs. Man, don't be so 'barra.s.sed! I knows 'zactly how yer feels. I understand what's de matter wid yer"--she paused, glanced at him out of the corners of her eye, touched him slyly with her elbow, and whispered:

"Why don't yer say what's on yer mind?"

Andy cleared his throat and began to stammer. He had the habit of stammering under excitement, and Tom's plan of escape had just popped into his benumbed brain. He saw the way out:

"Y-y-yas'm--cose, m'am. I got sumfin ter tell ye, Miss M-m-Minerva."

Minerva moved a little closer.

"Yas, honey, I knows what 'tis, but I'se jes' waitin' ter hear it."

He cleared his throat and tried to begin his speech in a friendly business-like way:

"Ya.s.sam, I gwine tell yer sho----"