“It ain't anything I've heard,” replied the miller.
“What is it, then?”
“It's something I saw.”
“Did you see it yourself?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Now, Sal,” said the doctor, “don't begin to tell me something you thought you saw.”
“I'm not a-goin' to tell you somethin' that I thought I saw. I'm a-goin' to tell you something that I did see.”
“All right,” said the doctor, “go on and tell it. What did you see?”
The woman drew a little closer.
“Well,” she said, “one Saturday the School-teacher come down here to help me, an' he brought Mary Jane's little boy with him. He's awful little. He ain't two yet. The School-teacher left him with me while he went down under the mill to fix one of the wheel paddles. Well, Martha was gone an' there was nobody here but me to 'tend things. An' I got to movin' around and forgot the little boy. An' when I went to look for him—I hope I may die!—if he wasn't a-layin' drown-ded at the bottom of the millrace. Lord-amighty! I was crazy. I jumped in an' got him out, an' begun to holler for the School-teacher to come. But he was dead. I knowed he was dead. His little lips was blue, an' his poor little hands was cold.”