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"But, gra'mammy," said the little darky, who had been to school and had imbibed some theology, "dey doan' keer nuttin' 'bout Norverners an' Souverners in heaben—"

"You shet yo' mouf, boy! You didn' never know ole marse. Doan' make no diff'unce whar he is, I lay he gwine cuss like a trooper when I done tole him de Yankees is livin' at Malvern—an' he sho' to arsk."

The youngster, more cowed by Aunt Keziah's energy than her arguments, maintained a discreet silence after this. Mrs. Hereford, who was a gentle and merciful woman, said to her:

"Wouldn't you like to go inside? It's very little changed since we came."

"Thankee, lady," she said, rising and hobbling to the hall door. Her uncertain step was heard going toward the library; then a long pause, and a quicker return. "I c'yarn do it!—I c'yarn," she panted, sitting down in her chair. "I thot I'd go ev'ywhar, all 'bout de house, an' set down in ev'y room; but seems ter me I hear dem voices callin'—ole marse bawlin' out 'Keziah!' an' little missy (she lisp when she talk) she say 'Kethiah'—an' I couldn't stay no longer. I was sorry I come."