“Then you must have seen Noah and the ark and all the animals?”
“Des es plain es I see you. Marse Noah? Why, I'se done wash en i'on Marse Noah's shuts twel I 'uz right stiff in de j'ints. He ain' never let nobody flute his frills fur 'im 'cep'n' me. Lawd, Lawd, Marse Peyton's shuts warn' nuttin ter Marse Noah's!”
Betty's eyes grew big. “I reckon you're mighty old, Aunt Ailsey—'most as old as God, ain't you?”
Aunt Ailsey pondered the question. “I ain' sayin' dat, honey,” she modestly replied.
“Then you're certainly as old as the devil—you must be,” hopefully suggested the little girl.
The old woman wavered. “Well, de devil, he ain' never let on his age,” she said at last; “but w'en I fust lay eyes on 'im, he warn' no mo'n a brat.”
Standing upon the threshold for an instant, the child reverently regarded her. Then, turning her back upon the fireplace and the bent old figure, she ran out into the twilight.