One driver had another flask. The other produced a deck of cards. The practiced way he shuffled them made Frederick leery of getting into a game with him, too. Were there no honest men anywhere any more? Once upon a time, Frederick had read a story about a Greek who'd gone looking for one-and ended up with nothing but a lantern to light the way and a barrel to sleep in. That didn't much surprise him. The world would have been a different, and probably a better, place if it had.

Carriages kept coming. Before long, Clotilde got tired of going in and out to greet each new arrival. That happened every time she threw one of these affairs. She told Frederick, "You just send 'em on into the house, you hear? I'll say hello to 'em when they come in."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. She said that at every gathering, too. As long as he could stay in the shade on the porch between arrivals, he didn't mind.

In their dresses of white and red, blue and green, purple and gold, the women might have been parts of a walking flower garden. Some of them were young and pretty. Frederick carefully schooled his face to woodenness. Helen would tease him about it tonight. He knew that, but it was all right. But if any of those young, pretty white women noticed a black man noticing them… that was anything but all right. An incautious Negro could end up without his family jewels if he showed what he was thinking. But when a well-built woman was about to explode out of the top of her gown, what was a man of any color supposed to think?

Whatever Frederick thought, it didn't show on his face.

One of the housemaids tried to sneak past him to join the colored men under the trees. He sent her back into the big house, saying, "Wait till the white ladies are eating. The mistress won't pay any mind to what you do then."

"Spoilsport," she said. Gatherings like this let slaves from different plantations get to know one another.