"Dem blin' en deef chu'ch visitors of we-alls—I don' mean no disrespect to dar reflictions—but dey's spilin' dat li'l Sara 'Lizbef. You knows, dey 'lowed dat gal to play on de spinet of a Sunday mornin's?—En dance chunes, at dat? En dat ain't all; dey 'sputes so wif deyse'fs over her dat it's scan'lous, en dar ain't no gittin' along wid 'em."
Little Sara, the bone of contention between the two, as Uncle Charles said, proved in a fair way to be spoiled. On my return she looked upon me as an intruder, but when she was made to feel that her rights were not to be infringed upon she welcomed me into the old companionship. I took great comfort in her, but often (though I kept the secret in my heart) the unguarded words of my mammy, "dat chile bleeged fer ter die anyhow," occurred to me and made me sorry and afraid, yet I knew not why, for I had no idea of death.
One night I was awakened by the sound of voices and, peeping from under the covers, saw the bald head of our old family physician, Dr. Finney, and the anxious face of my grandmother, who was holding the big brass nursery candlestick. I caught the word "croup." Then their voices were lowered to a whisper as they looked toward my bed. They went out and closed the door and I lay awake a long time thinking, wondering who or what was "croup."
Next morning I awakened long after my usual hour and was told that I must be very quiet for my grandmother had a headache. While my mammy was dressing me she sighed and looked mysteriously wise, and between the fastening of my buttons and the curling of my hair repeated over and over again, "Lord a massy on us! We're here to-day but gone to-morrow!"
As I was tiptoeing down the hall my grandmother called me. She was sitting in her wrapper before a corn-cob fire. Taking me upon her lap and rocking me she tenderly stroked my hair. Mammy, shaking her head, leaned against the mantel and moaned and groaned. I turned away and looked into the crackling fire till presently the beautiful pictures in the burning coals made me break the solemn silence, and I said:
"Look, grandmother! See! A ship of coals loaded with falling stars and Jack-er-my-lanterns—Oh, and see! There is a city of gold! See that old castle tumbling down. See the silver cloud going so fast to the city and white flowers and sunshine all falling down and——"
"Yes, I see, my darling," replied my grandmother, pressing me closely to her.
"I knowed dat chile was gwine to be pestered seein' sperits, but, Mistis, dar p'intedly ain't no occasion of yo 'couragin' her in it lak you is," objected my mammy, throwing on an armful of fresh cobs and destroying my golden glory pictures.
"Now, go along, darling, and eat your breakfast," said my grandmother, "and then you may tell Ole-Granny-Aggie that she may let you go into the weaving room and give you the old cards and some of the waste wool to card, and if you are very good she may let you run the shuttle awhile. Tell her she need not 'toker' off her stent to-day, but just take care of you."
I stopped for a minute and looking up at her said, "And little Sara, too, please, marm?" She shook her head and shivered; then mammy took me away.