“Nancy, chile, w’y can’t yer trus’ in de Lord, an’ not trouble so much ’bout de s’ieties?” inquired old Adah.
“’Caze I wants to be zactly yight an’ sabe my soul an’ go to Glory. But as for you, Aunt Adah, wot do you expec’ as nebber goes inside ob any church?” demanded Nancy.
“Honey, I hum’ly hopes de dear Lord will sabe my soul, ’caze I can’t go to church in my ’streme ole age—ninety-nine years old las’ Can’lemas Day. Can’t walk nigh so far, honey, an’ can’t sit so long; but I trus’ in de Lord.”
“An’ you, ’lectin’ de s’ieties as you do s’pects to go to Glory?” demanded Nancy, full of righteous indignation.
“No, honey, no—not to Glory. I nebber ’sumed to fink ob sich a fing as dat. But I do hope as de dear Lord will let me in to some little place in His kingdom—some little house by some little crik running up out’n de Ribber ob Life, whey I can lib in lub ’long ob my dear ole man an’ our chillun wot all went home so many years ago. Dat’s wot I hum’ly trus’ in de Lord to gib me.”
“A’n’ Adah, wouldn’ yer like a bowlful of beef soup?” inquired Cassy, breaking in upon this discussion.
“Yes, chile, I would, w’ich de young marster said as I might hab a tumbler ob b’andy toddy, too.”
“All yight. So you shall. An’ yer’d better stay all day wid us an’ get bofe a good dinner an’ a good supper, an’ Cely an’ Mandy ’ill take you home.”
“T’anky, kindly, Cassy, chile, so I will,” concluded the aged woman, settling herself comfortably for a whole day’s enjoyment.
Early in the afternoon the Rev. Mr. Cave and Dr. Kerr drove over together to see Tudor Hereward.