Baby did.
Delia unfastened the gold chain and hung it about the child’s neck. The other babies clapped and crowed, but the little girl, gravely dimpling, continued to finger the links in silence.
“Oh, ma’am, you can’t leave that fine chain on little Teeny. When she has to go back to those blacks....”
“What is her name?”
“Teena they call her, I believe. It don’t seem a Christian name, har’ly.”
Delia was silent.
“What I say is, her cheeks is too red. And she coughs too easy. Always one cold and another. Here, Teeny, leave the lady go.”
Delia stood up, loosening the tender arms.
“She doesn’t want to leave go of you, ma’am. Miss Chatty ain’t been in today, and the little thing’s kinder lonesome without her. She don’t play like the other children, somehow.... Teeny, you look at that lovely chain you’ve got ... there, there now....”
“Goodbye, Clementina,” Delia whispered below her breath. She kissed the pale brown eyes, the curly crown, and dropped her veil on rushing tears. In the stable-yard she dried them on her large embroidered handkerchief, and stood hesitating. Then with a decided step she turned toward home.