Even his own father he knew
little about except that his mother had said his name was Peter, like
his own, and that he had gone down the river on a tie boat and was
drowned.
A faint sound attracted Peter's attention. He looked out at his open
window and saw old Rose making off the back way with something concealed
under her petticoat. Peter knew it was the unused ham and biscuits that
she had cooked. For once the old negress hurried along without railing
at the world. She moved with a silent, but, in a way, self-respecting,
flight. Peter could see by the tilt of her head and the set of her
shoulders that not only did her spoil gratify her enmity to mankind in
general and the Captain in particular, but she was well within her
rights in her acquisition. She disappeared around a syringa bush, and
was heard no more until she reappeared to cook the noon meal, as
vitriolic as ever.
* * * * *
When Peter entered the library, old Captain Renfrew greeted him with
morning wishes, thus sustaining the fiction that they had not seen each
other before, that morning.
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