Conspicuous in one corner was "lil Dory's cradle," which had been painted red, with a lettering in white on one side of it, "In memory of lil chile Dory." This he had placed in what he called the parlor that morning, after dusting it carefully and putting a fresh pillow case on the scanty pillow where Amy's head had lain. He was thinking of her and wondering he did not hear from the Colonel, when the sound of carriage wheels made him look up and start for his house. Mr. Mason was the first to alight; then Jack; then Eloise; and then Amy, whose senses for a moment left her entirely.
"What is it? Where are we?" she said, pressing her hands to her forehead.
Evidently the place did not impress her, except as something strange.
"Let's go!" she whispered to Eloise. "We've nothing to do here; let's go back to the oranges and palmettos."
"But, mother, Jakey is here!" Eloise replied, her eyes fixed upon the old man to whom Mr. Mason had been explaining, and whose "Bress de Lawd. I feels like havin' de pow', ef I b'lieved in it," she heard distinctly.
Then he came rapidly toward them, and she could see the tears on his black face, which was working nervously.
"Miss Dory! Miss Dory! 'Tain't you! Oh, de Lawd,—so growed,—so changed! Is it you for shu'?" he said, stretching his hands toward Amy, who drew closer to Eloise.
"Go gently, Jake; gently! Remember her mind is weak," Mr. Mason said.
"Yes, sar. I 'members de Harris's mind mostly was weak. Ole Miss didn't know nuffin', an' Miss Dory was a little quar, an' dis po' chile is like 'em," was Jake's reply, which brought a deep flush to Eloise's face.
She had felt her cheeks burning all the time she had been looking round on her mother's home, wondering what Jack would think of it. At Jake's mention of the Harrises she glanced at him so appealingly, that for answer he put his arm around her and whispered, "Keep up, darling, I see your mother is waking up."