"Parson Kendall might better tell my name," she said. "Oh, and here comes Mammy!"
And making excuse to dart away, Sally hastened forward at sight of Mammy Leezer, who had come along at the right moment.
Mammy was out in great glory. A gay bandanna, really a handkerchief of red silk with yellow dots, was made up into a gay turban, with rabbit's ears that stood erect just over the middle of her forehead.
Another gay kerchief was crossed over her ample bosom, and her skirt of white cotton with a red stripe stood out stiff with starch, making Mammy look much like a sailing balloon as she came slowly along.
"What dat sojer man sayin' to you, honey?" she asked, as Sally flew up to her in a way to do her affectionate old heart good.
"Nothing much," said Sally. "I dropped some leaves and he picked them up for me, but I didn't want him stepping beside me, so I ran up to you."
"Which am de proper ting to do," said Mammy, with dignity. "Doan't you let none of dem Britishers go sparkin' yo' pritty face, honey, nor doan't you be a bit 'fraid o' dem, neder. I nebber was 'fraid ob de face of clay, and dar doan't no sojers make eyes at me when I goes out walkin' ov an evening."
Sally wanted to laugh at the pompous air with which Mammy stalked along, much like an old dragoon, she thought, for the soft spring weather had helped her rheumatism, and she could get along with considerable comfort.
But the road forked, and Mammy went off toward Ingleside, while Sally went on to the parson's.
She had reached the gate, and was startled as she began going up the gravelled walk to hear a soft voice beside her say: