"Why, Aunt Minerva!"
The big, jovial black woman glanced at her:
"G'way, chile—g'way frum here!"
"Aunt Minerva, I wouldn't have thought such a thing of you!" Helen said demurely.
Minerva broke into a jolly laugh and faced her tormentor:
"Yassum, honey, I spec hit wuz all my fault. Love's such foolishness—yer knows how dat is yosef!"
A look of rapture overspread Helen's face:
"Such a sweet, wonderful foolishness, Aunt Minerva!"—she paused and her voice was trembling when she added—"It makes us all akin, doesn't it?"
"Yassam, an' I sho' is glad ter see you so happy!"
"Oh, I'm too happy, Aunt Minerva, it frightens me"—she stopped, glanced at the door, drew nearer and continued in low tones: "I've just left Tom out there on the lawn, to ask you to do something for me."