Marthy. I was jes tryin' ter get hit lookin' little better fo' you seed it.
Fair (wearily). No matter, Marthy; leave it as it is. I'll help you to-morrow.
Marthy. I rekon I better git dem pictures up in de attic fo' your mar see um.
[She takes up one picture, mutilated beyond recognition, and tries to cover it with her apron.
Fair. What is it, Marthy?
Marthy. 'Tain't nothin', honey. You go on back ter your mar and let old Marthy get things straight.
Fair (with an effort). Let me see it—I'd rather, please. (She holds out her hand; Marthy gives her the picture). Oh, Marthy, not even this. They couldn't even leave his picture.
Marthy. Dar, my lamb; don't you cry when you bin so brave. Dars a nother picture of Mars George in yo' mar's room. (She draws Fair's head down upon her knee, stroking her hair). My blessed chile—my lamb!
Fair (raising her face and trying to stop her tears). There, there, that was very foolish, and I won't any more. Take this away and hide it.