"I doesn't love Him."
"Don't talk that way, child."
"Well, you go off, and let me 'lone."
"I wish to comfort you."
"I doesn't want no comfort."
"Come," said I, "talk freely to me. It will do you good."
"I tells you I doesn't want no good for to happen to me. I'd rather be like I is."
"Amy," and it was with reluctance I ventured to allude to a subject so painful; but I deemed it necessary to excite her painfully rather than leave her in that granite-like despair, "you may yet have your sisters and little brother restored to you."
"How? how? and when?" she screamed with joy, and started up, her wild eyes beaming with exultation.
"Don't be so wild," I said, softly, as I took her little, hard hand, and pressed it tenderly.