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"One night I was settin' by de charmber fire, an' I hear a cart come up ter de front do'; an' I wonder what kin' o' folks 'twas comin' dat time o' night in a cart. So I run out an' open de do' as soon as I heerd de knock—an' 'twas our Jake. 'Whar's little marse?' I ask him, ketchin' hol' on him. Jake look at me, an' he was kinder ashy, an' he couldn't speak. An' I hear ole marse an' missis comin'; an' sumpin' was in de cart all covered up, an' two men was takin' it out. When Jake seed missis, he start ter trimble; an' ole marse he shout, 'Whar's yo' marster?—whar's my son?' An' Jake he pint ter de cart."

At this point she stopped. She took out a tattered handkerchief and began to finger it nervously. The afternoon shadows had lengthened since she had begun.

"Dey brung de coffin in de parlor, an' sot it down on cheers. He look jes' like he did de mornin' he rid away, but bofe legs was broke. Nobody teched him but me an' Jake. He hed two letters in he pocket, an' one was a letter I had done got little missy ter write fur me, tellin' him to take keer o' hisself. Ole marse, he do mighty queer. Arter ev'ything was fixed, he come an' set down by de coffin, an' he never cry nor nuttin'—he jes' put he han' ev'y now an' den on little marse's head, an' say, 'My son, my son Marmaduke!' Missis she set by him, an' talk ter him, an' pray wid him, an' read de Bible to him, an' seem like she didn't think 'bout nuttin' but comfortin' old marse. Little missy she creep upsty'ars into little marse's room an' flung herself on de floor, an' lay like she was dead, 'twell I took her up in my arms, and settin' down in de rockin'-cheer, she see me cryin', an' she cry too.