“Well,” said Aaron, “there was a fire burning the house, and there was this George Gossett running away. You can put the two together, if you want to, or you can leave them just as the Grandson of Abdallah saw them—one burning the house and the other running away.”
“Huh! he sot dat house afire!” exclaimed Drusilla; “kaze I hear my mammy an’ ol’ Aunt Free Polly sesso.”
All this made Sweetest Susan open her eyes in amazement, and they were very bright and beautiful eyes.
“Oh, how could he be so cruel?” she cried.
“He thought the White-haired Master rode him down that night on purpose,” said Aaron, “and he had a good many other thoughts.”
The Black Stallion galloped to another part of the field, and Aaron said it was time for the children to go to the house and fix for dinner. So they went running along.
XI.
FREE POLLY’S STORY.
It was not long before the children had an appointment to see Free Polly. She had chosen their father for her guardian, and was in the habit of visiting the plantation very often, sometimes staying there for weeks at a time.
Free Polly was sixty years old, but very frisky and fond of fun—always ready to listen to a joke or tell a story. All her stories were older than she was, but she never told one without laughing at it just as heartily as if she had heard it for the first time. She bowed her head from side to side in jaunty fashion, and laughed loudly. The children laughed, too, for she made a very comical appearance. She had on a yellow basque with flowing sleeves, and a blue skirt. On her head she wore a flaming red bandana, and on top of that a bonnet shaped like a sugar scoop and stuffed full of faded artificial flowers. At sixty years old Free Polly still considered herself a belle, and put on a great many airs. Whenever she met anybody, black or white, she always bowed her head, first to the left, then to the right, and made a low curtsy. This she did now when the children called her. She bowed and curtsied, and then placed her arms akimbo, and waited for the youngsters to come up.