Mary and Marthy feed ma lambs,
Sittin’ on the golden stair.”
The verse finished, the colored girl turned her head and met Dorothea’s glance, whereupon she smiled broadly and getting to her feet came to the side of the bed. Dorothea’s sleepy eyes opened wide as she caught sight of a band of cheap red ribbon tying back Lucy’s frizzy hair.
“Does my little missy want I shall bring her she’s breakfus’ in baid?” the smiling maid asked. “I’ve been wrastlin’ with that pesky fire, tryin’ to kindle it without wakin’ you-all, but I ’spects that wood done come from a tree what was lightnin’ struck, it ac’ so contrary.”
“Don’t wake Miss Harriot,” Dorothea cautioned in a whisper.
“Nothin’ don’t wake Miss Harry till she’s ready to be woked,” Lucy assured her. “Her old mammy always done said she was the sleepin’est and the eatin’est baby she ever set her two eyes on—and Miss Harry ain’t outgrow it none.”
“But hadn’t I better go down to breakfast with my aunt?” Dorothea asked.
“Land sakes, honey,” Lucy replied with a wide grin. “Ol’ Miss had she’s breakfus’ hours and hours ago. She don’t spressify what you must do. But ev’ybody pleases they’ se’f heah, and that please Ol’ Miss.”
And then Harriot suddenly woke up. To Dorothea’s mind she did this, not like a person rousing from a deep sleep, but rather like a wax doll whose eyes come open with a snap and who is suddenly wide awake.
Something of this she expressed to Harriot, who seemed rather annoyed thereby.