The strange little woman faced them proudly. "My husband, Silas, got religion in de night time," she said, "an' he bruck clean thoo de slats. De bed ain't helt stiddy sence."
Eugenia emerged from the dusk of the doorway, where she had lingered, and Delphy rose to take the dripping clothes.
"Des' look at her!" exclaimed Aunt Verbeny at the girl's entrance. "Ain't she a sight ter mek a blin' man see?" Then she added to the strange little woman, "Dar ain' no lack er beaux roun' yer, needer."
Uncle Ish grunted.
"I ain' seen 'em swum es dey swum roun' Miss Meely," he muttered, while Aunt Verbeny shook her fist at him behind the stranger's back. "De a'r wuz right thick wid 'em."
"I reckon dis chile'll be mah'r'd soon es she sets her min' on it," returned Delphy indignantly. "She ain' gwineter have ter do much cuttin' er de eyelashes, needer. De beaux come natch'ul."
"Dar's Marse Dudley, now," said Aunt Verbeny. "I ain' so ole but my palate hit kin taste a gent'mun a mile off. Marse Dudley ain' furgit de times I'se done roas' him roas'in' years when he warn' mo'n er chile. Hit's 'how's yo' health, Aunt Verbeny?' des' de same es 'twuz den."
Eugenia laughed and flung the heap of garments into Delphy's arms. "The rain's over," she said; "but, Uncle Ish, you'd better get Congo to fix you up for the night. It is too wet for your rheumatism," and she ran singing upstairs to where the general was dozing in the sitting-room. "Wake up, dad! it's going to clear!"
The general started heavily from his sleep. There was a dazed look in his eyes.
"Clear?" he asked doubtfully, "has it been raining?"