“Is your mistress insane, Jim?” inquired Miss Sallie anxiously.
“No-o, ma’am,” returned the old man. “Miss Thorne she ain’t crazy. She’s puffectly quiet, suh, and she’s all right on every subject ’cept one. I hates to tell you what that thing is.”
“Out with it, Jim. What is the lady’s peculiarity?”
“She imagines, suh, that her fambly is still with her, her own ma and pa, and young massa, and her sister Missy Lucy. Missy Rose ain’t never been married.”
“Where is her family, Jim?” Ruth asked.
“They lies yonder in the buryin’ ground, Missy,” replied the old darkey, pointing toward a clearing some distance from the house, where a few white stones gleamed in the twilight.
Miss Sallie shuddered. Grace and Mollie huddled close to her, while Ruth and Bab gave each other’s hands re-assuring pressures.
“Do you look after this Miss Thorne?” Mr. Stuart inquired further.
“Yes, suh; me and my wife Chloe looks after her. Chloe cooks and I works about the place when I’se not down to the beach with my boat. But my missus ain’t so poor. She’s got enough to git along with. I jest likes to earn a little extra.”
By this time Jim had climbed down from his shaky old wagon. He now opened the front door.