"Oh, child," she began, "do run somewhar' and git me a scrap or so of dry wood, so as to raise a smart little blaze to brown dis bread."
"Indeed I will," and off I bounded in quest of the combustible material. Of late Aunt Polly and I had become as devoted as mother and child. 'Tis true there was a deep yearning in my heart, a thirst for intercommunion of soul, which this untutored negress could not supply. She did not answer, with a thrilling response, to the deep cry which my spirit sent out; yet she was kind, and even affectionate, to me. Usually harsh to others, with me she was gentle as a lamb. With a thousand little motherly acts she won my heart, and I strove, by assiduous kindness, to make her forget that I was not her daughter. I started off with great alacrity in search of the dry wood, and remembered that on the day previous I had seen some barrel staves lying near an out-house, and these I knew would quickly ignite. When rapidly turning the corner of the stable, I was surprised to see Lindy standing in close and apparently free conversation with a strange-looking white man. The sound of my rapid footsteps startled them; and upon seeing me, the man walked off hastily. With a fluttering, excited manner, Lindy came up and said:
"Don't say nothing 'bout haven' seed me wid dat ar' gemman; fur he used to be my mars'er, and a good one he was too."
I promised that I would say nothing about the matter, but first I inquired what was the nature of the private interview.
"Oh, he jist wanted fur to see me, and know how I was gitten' long."
I said no more; but I was not satisfied with her explanation. I resolved to watch her narrowly, and ferret out, if possible, this seeming mystery. Upon my return to the kitchen, with my bundle of dry sticks, I related what I had seen to Aunt Polly.
"Dat gal is arter sompen not very good, you mark my words fur it."
"Oh, maybe not, Aunt Polly," I answered, though with a conviction that I was speaking at variance with the strong probabilities of the case.
I hurried in the viands and meats for the table, and was not surprised to find Lindy unusually obliging, for I understood the object. There was an abashed air and manner which argued guilt, or at least, that she was the mistress of a secret, for the entire possession of which she trembled. Sundry little acts of unaccustomed kindness she offered me, but I quietly declined them. I did not desire that she should insult my honor by the offer of a tacit bribe.
In the evening, when I was arranging Miss Jane's hair (this was my especial duty), she surprised me by asking, in a careless and incautious manner: