"Oh, is Aunt Polly any sicker?" she inquired.
"Amy, she is dead."
"Oh, Lord, den I ain't gwine to hope you, bekase I's afeared ob a dead body."
"It can't harm you."
"Yes it ken; anyhow, I is feared ob it, and I ain't gwine to hope you."
"Well, you need not touch her, only sit up with me whilst I wash her and dress her nicely."
"Well, I'll do dat much."
Accordingly, she crouched down in the corner and concealed her face with her hands, whilst I proceeded to wash the body thoroughly and dress it out in an old faded calico, which, in life, had constituted her finest robe. Bare and undecked, but clean, appeared that tabernacle of flesh, which had once enshrined a tried but immortal spirit. When all was finished, I seated myself near the partly-opened door, and waited for the coming of day. Ah, when was the morn of glad freedom to break for me?