"Come, honey, dry dose wet eyes an' eat yo' supper," said mammy, setting it out daintily on a little table which she placed before the child and covered with a fine damask cloth fresh from the iron. "De milk's mos' all cream, an' de bread good as kin be: an' you kin hab much as eber you want ob both ob dem."
"Did mamma say so, mammy?"
"Yes, chile; an' don't shed no mo' dose tears now; ole mammy lubs you like her life."
"But I've been very naughty, mammy," sobbed the little girl.
"Yes, Miss Wi'let, honey: an' we's all been naughty, but de good Lord forgib us for Jesus' sake if we's sorry an' don't 'tend neber to do so no mo'."
"Yes, mammy, Oh I wish you could stay with me I but you musn't: for mamma said I must be all alone."
"Yes, darlin'; an' if you wants mo' supper, jes ring dis, an' mammy'll come."
She placed a small silver bell on the table beside Vi, and with a tender, compassionate look at the tear-swollen face, went away.
The young Travillas were sometimes denied dainties because of misconduct, but always allowed to satisfy their youthful appetites with an abundance of wholesome, nourishing food.
Vi ate her supper with a keen relish, and found herself greatly comforted by it. How much one's views of life are brightened by a good comfortable meal that does not overtax the digestive organs. Vi suddenly remembered with a feeling of relief that the worst of her trouble—the confession—was over, and the punishment nearly so.