"An' wuh dey gwine do, Lucian," she said, reluctantly risking the query.
"Put me 'way—Palo Seco—dah's de colony."
"Don't cry, son, never min', mama will tek care o' Gerald—oh, my son, you'll break my heart."
"'E love 'e pappy, ent 'e?" he smiled, then turned his moistening eyes to the black wall behind him.
"Well," she said, her eyes clear and dry, "the Lord wuks His wonders in a mysterious way. What's to be, will be."
He, too, was weeping; but she held on, driving the mirage to the winds.
"Yo' kin come to see muh, Sarah," he said, "dey allow yo' one visit a year—yo' mus' come, yo' hear?"
"Yes, Lucian, I'll come."
"An' yo' mustn't call me bad, yo' heah?" he pleaded, the water in his eyes, like a young culprit.
"God forbid, dear—be quiet now. Come, Gerald, time fi' go, son." She adjusted his hat, and a bell started ringing.