Tibbie. But I ain't pale, anyhow.
Sally. Law! that you ain't!
Tibbie. Who's the gentleman, Sal, in the pretty frame?
Sally. That's Mrs.'s husband. He ain't been living some time.
Tibbie. Oh, he ain't living.
Sally. Now, Tibbs, I'm going to get you that cake before I show you the Hundred. You wait here. But don't you hurt anything, or I'll skin you sure, like I told Miss Catherine. And whatever you do, don't you look behind that curtain till I come back.
Tibbie. Is the Hundred there?
Sally. Yes, it's there. [Exit.]
[Tibbie looks at the curtain for a moment,
then turns to examine other wonders.
Strokes the soft cushions, etc., with the
palm of her hand, which she frequently
stops to smell. Gazes at the photo of the
Reverend Dorel.
Tibbie. He looks like a real kind, good man. I'm going to ask Sally if she knows him. [Sits down on the floor and strokes the fur rug. Enter Sally with cake-box. Tibbie chooses gravely, then speaks with her mouth full.] I never tasted any cake like this before. M-m-m-m! Say, Sally, this big thing's 'most as good as a dog. It's so soft I'd like to sleep on it.