“Lor! and that was the bad news as that gentleman brought you?”
“Yes, it was.”
“And it overcomed you so! Well, Lord! to think of the tender heart! But what is the matter of him, honey?—pleurisy, I shouldn’t wonder! That’s most in general what ails people this time of the year. Is it pleurisy, honey?”
“No, not that; but do not stop now to ask questions. I have no time to answer them. Here is Pina with the trunk. And here are my keys. Go to my wardrobes and bureaus, and select what is needful for my journey. And pray be quick about it, for I have no time to lose.”
“Well, but honey, hear me for one minute first. It may be that he is very ill, but he may get over it, ’out your gwine to see him. Yes, and if you go, he may get well and you may die. And anyway, I don’t see the use of two lives and maybe three lives risted instead of one. Take my ’vice, honey, and stay quietly at home.”
“Nurse, listen. I should suffer a thousand times more in mind to stay here, than I possibly could to go the journey that I have fully resolved to take,” said Drusilla.
“Well, honey, in either case your life must be risted, I suppose; and of course you have got a right to take your choice how it shall be risted. So now, all I got to do is to make your journey as comfor’ble as I can.”
“Thank you. That is indeed all that you can do,” said Drusilla.
“But mind, honey, I gwine long with you,” said mammy, with grim resolution.
“You? You going, nurse? I have not asked you!” exclaimed Drusilla, in astonishment.