She interrupted herself, a new thought striking her.
“Please, missy, what is it mannehs foh Lucy to call you? Ol’ Miss is Ol’ Miss and Lil’ Miss is Lil’ Miss, and Miss Harriot is Miss Harry, but foh a fac’ I don’t know what yoh is, and I been a studyin’ about it a heap.”
“I’m Miss Dorothea, I suppose,” Dorothea suggested.
Lucy shook her head.
“That’s a high bo’n quality name,” she replied doubtfully, “but they ain’t none of us can say it lak it should be said. I laid awake half the night a-practicin’ and a-practicin’, an’ I ain’t got up the courage yet. It’s too much granjure for my tongue, I reckon.”
“What would you like to call me?” Dorothea questioned. “I should like you to call me whatever you please.”
Lucy heaved a great sigh of relief.
“Then I’ll say Miss Dee, honey,” she announced, “jes’ lak I’d knowed yoh f’om a baby.”
She stopped and Dorothea expected her to go away, but she still lingered.
“Is there something more, Lucy?” she asked.