Owlet opened the door before they had time to rap, and admitted Tom and his mother.
“Gwine away dis mornin’, young mist’ess? I’s orful sorry to year it, an’ I’se orful busy, long o’ de breakfas’, too, dough dere ain’t mo’ dan one-quarter ob de people in de house as dere was in de winter, neider. Still, breakfas’ is breakfas’, an’ it has fo’ to be got,” said Lucy, with a succession of old country courtesies, as she stood respectfully before the lady.
“I am sorry to part with you, too,” Roma replied.
“An’ young mist’ess, I do fank yo’ so much fo’ dat same gif’ yo’ gib me. I ain’t had no sich a gif’ sence ebber I lef’ de ole Snake in ye ole times ’fo’ de wo’, I ain’t, fo’ de trufe; an’ I fank yo’, young mist’ess, fo’ dat same fibe-dollar gol’ piece.”
“You are very welcome; but the ‘Snake,’ did you say?”
“De ole Sarpint—yes, mist’ess.”
“What old Serpent?” inquired Roma, for though she knew very well what Lucy meant, having heard from Tom that he and his “mammy” had come from the Isle of Storms, yet she wished to draw the woman out, to make an opening by which she might naturally disclose her own connection with that place, which she had not wished to do until now, when she was about to leave Washington.
“De islan’, young mist’ess, w’ere de fambly ob de Guyon libbed ebber sence de ole times ’fo’ de wo.”
“Did you live with the Guyons?”
“Lor’, yes, young mist’ess; I ’longed to dem. Did yo’ know ’em, young mist’ess?”