"My mammy name Creecy," replied the girl, grinning broadly. "She cookin' fer Miss Ritta."
Mr. Sanders remembered Creecy very well. She had belonged to the Gaither family before the war. "Where do you stay?" he inquired. He was not disposed to admit, even indirectly, that he didn't know every human being in the town.
"I stays dar wid Miss Ritta," replied Larceeny. "I goes ter de do', an' waits on Miss Nugeeny."
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, with a smile of satisfaction. Here was a clew. Miss Nugeeny must be Eugenia Claiborne, and Miss Ritta was probably her mother.
"Miss Ritta say she wanter see you right now," insisted Larceeny. "When she seed you on de street, you wuz so fur, she couldn't holla at you, an' time she call me outer de gyarden, you wuz done gone. I wuz at de fur een' er de gyarden, pickin' rasbe'ies, an' I had ter drap ever'thing."
"Do you pick raspberries with your mouth?" inquired Mr. Sanders, with a very solemn air.
"Is my mouf dat red?" inquired Larceeny, with an alarmed expression on her face. She seized her gingham apron by the hem, and, using the underside, proceeded to remove the incriminating stains, remarking, "I'm mighty glad you tol' me, kaze ef ol' Miss Polly had seed dat—well, she done preach my funer'l once, an' I don't want ter hear it no mo'."
Mr. Sanders, following Larceeny, proceeded to the Gaither Place, and was ushered into the parlour, where, to his surprise, he found Judge Vardeman, of Rockville, one of the most distinguished lawyers of the State. Mr. Sanders knew the Judge very well, and admired him not only on account of his great ability as a lawyer, but because of the genial simplicity of his character. They greeted each other very cordially, and were beginning to discuss the situation—it was the one topic that never grew stale during that sad time—when Mrs. Claiborne came in; she had evidently been out to attend to some household affairs.
"I'm very glad to see you, Mr. Sanders," she said. "I have sent for you at the suggestion of Judge Vardeman, who is a kinsman of mine by marriage. He is surprised that you and I are not well acquainted; but I tell him that in such sad times as these, it is a wonder that one knows one's next-door neighbours."
Mr. Sanders made some fitting response, and as soon as he could do so without rudeness, closely studied the countenance of the lady. There was a vivacity, a gaiety, an archness in her manner that he found very charming. Her features were not regular, but when she laughed or smiled, her face was beautiful. If she had ever experienced any serious trouble, Mr. Sanders thought, she had been able to bear it bravely, for no marks of it were left on her speaking countenance. "Give me a firm faith and a light heart," says an ancient writer, "and the world may have everything else."