“What is your last name, Julianna?” Diantha asked her.
“I suppose, as a matter o' fac' its de name of de last nigger I married,” she replied. “Dere was several of 'em, all havin' different names, and to tell you de truf Mis' Bell, I got clean mixed amongst 'em. But Julianna's my name—world without end amen.”
So Diantha had to waive her theories about the surnames of servants in this case.
“Did they all die?” she asked with polite sympathy.
“No'm, dey didn't none of 'em die—worse luck.”
“I'm afraid you have seen much trouble, Julianna,” she continued sympathetically; “They deserted you, I suppose?”
Julianna laid her long spoon upon the table and stood up with great gravity. “No'm,” she said again, “dey didn't none of 'em desert me on no occasion. I divorced 'em.”
Marital difficulties in bulk were beyond Diantha's comprehension, and she dropped the subject.
Union House opened in the autumn. The vanished pepper trees were dim with dust in Orchardina streets as the long rainless summer drew to a close; but the social atmosphere fairly sparkled with new interest. Those who had not been away chattered eagerly with those who had, and both with the incoming tide of winter visitors.
“That girl of Mrs. Porne's has started her housekeeping shop!”