The face of the old woman remained inscrutable, and Josephine could see no sign except that a sort of film crossed her eyes, as though veiling some inmost thought.
"Ef dey was, I doan' reckon you-all would have come heah, would you? Now you lay down and git comf'table. Doan' you worry none, Ma'am. You gwine be fine, by mawnin'. You suttinly is a right handsome lady, Ma'am!"
The old woman shuffled from the room, to join her master at the foot of the stairs.
"Where is she, Sally?" demanded Dunwody, "and how is she?"
"She's right tired, suh," said Sally non-committally. And then, "Mighty fine lookin' lady, suh. An' she is a lady! Huc'cum her here, Marse Warv'l? Whut you-all—"
"What did she say to you?"
"Nothin' 'cept she's gwine git away right soon. White folkes' business ain't none o' my business."
"Well, never you mind about all that, Sally. Now listen. It's your business to keep her there, in that room. When she wants anything, get it. But don't you talk to her, you understand. I reckon you do understand, don't you?"
"I reckon I does, suh."
"Well, all right then. If she goes to walk, keep her in sight. She doesn't send out letters to any one, and doesn't talk to strangers, do you understand?"