“But that she should be living in dependence on these people!”
“’Tain’t quite dat, neider, young marse. Dere’s money comes ter her ebery once in a w’ile—f’om some ’un or odder who owed ole marse a debt. It come frough some laayer, in de care ob Miss Mar’get, an’ she do lay it out fo’ de ole madam. I know she pay de two doctah’s bills an’ bought fings wid it.”
“Oh, yes,” said Harcourt. “I believe I did hear from mother that there was an old debt owed her which was to be paid by installments. But if mother stays there I must pay her board. If the people won’t take pay she must come away.”
“No, she mus’n’, ’deed, young marster. It would kill her. ’Sides w’ich, I doane b’liebe dese sens’ble Norvun people would ’ject to yo’ payin’ bo’d fo’ her. Dey ain’t got none ob dat nasty se’fish pwide wot won’t take no ’sideration on ter nobody e’se’s pwoper pwide. No, sah! Now, young marse, p’ease tell me wot o’clock it is. It mus’ be gettin’ moughty late.”
“I have no watch, Martha, but I should judge it to be about ten o’clock.”
“See dat now! I mus’ go back ter ole mist’ess. I s’eeps in her yoom ebery night, to take care ob her. I does fo’ her all day, too, dough I keeps on dis ole cabin to keep my fings in; an’ young marse, I kin mak’ yo’ mons’ous comfo’ble in de oder yoom, w’ere ole mist’ess used to s’eep, ef yo’ doane min’ s’eepin’ yere ter-night. De ruff doane let in no water, eben if de rain come, dough it is men’ed moughty rough.”
“I shall sleep here, if you please, so long as I stay in the neighborhood.”
“All yight, young marse. I’ll do de bes’ I kin fo’ yo’.”
Martha went into the other room, made the bed, laid out towels, and filled the pitcher with fresh water.
Then she returned, and said: