"Was it very long ago that it all happened?"
"'Twarn't so long dat I kin forgit it. Fust time I ever feel like trouble was comin' was one mornin' when little marse—dat was Marmaduke, an' all de black folks call him young marse, 'cause he was tall like he pa, an' was more'n twenty-one; but I had done rock him when he was a baby, an' I never could call him nuttin' but little marse—he rid away fur to whip de Yankees. He help ter raise a comp'ny, an' he was 'lected cap'n, an' dat mornin,' right arter breakfast, he was gwine away. All de black folks 'bout de house was out here on dis here porch fur to tell him good-by, an' marse an' missis an' little missy, an' Marse George an' me, an' all on 'em was smilin' an mighty gay 'cept me an' Marse George. He was lookin' sorter black an' sulky 'cause he want ter go ter de war too; but he warn't but sixteen years old, an' ole marse an' missis wouldn't let him. When little marse come out, he look so fine in his bran'-new uniform, an' Jake—dat was he body servant—was settin' on one o' ole marse's best horses, holdin' little marse's horse by de bridle, an' jes' a grinnin', he was so happy. Young marse had he sword in he hand, an' little missy—she warn't but fifteen—tooken it from him an' snatch he cap off, an' strut up an' down ter make ole marse laugh; an' den she buckle de sword on agin, an' little marse he went up an' shook hands wid ole marse, an' he say: 'Good-by, father. You'll see me back 'fore de leaves fall. 'Twon't take long to whip dem chicken-hearted Yankees.' An' missis she hol' him in her arms, an' she kiss him, but she keep on smilin' an never shed a tear.
"I cry so hard I had ter run upsty'ars, an' I went in little marse's room, an' set down in de cheer, an' cried 'twell I couldn't cry no mo'. I got up den, an' was gittin' out he nice white shirts an' he high beaver hat fur to put 'em away 'ginst he come home, when little missy she walk in. Her cheeks was white like chalk, an' her big black eyes had a kinder skeert look in 'em, an' she steal up ter me, an' say, 'Oh, mammy, do you think he'll ever come back?' an' fust thing I know she was cryin' wusser'n me, an' I jes' took her in my lap like I useter when she was a little gal, an' set down, an' say, 'H'ish! h'ish! in course he gwine ter come back.' All dat day little missy she hang on ter me. Old marse he stay down in de fiel' making 'tense he was lookin' arter de han's, an' missis she shet herself up in de store-room ter fix up de house-keepin' book, an' I didn't see neither one 'twell dinner-time. Den dey talk mighty cheerful, an' little missy she plague George 'bout gwine ter de army, but I didn't hear none on 'em say a word 'bout little marse. But I know dey didn't furgit him.
"Arter dat things was mighty cur'us. Missis she couldn't get no mo' clo'es, an' she put away all her fine silks an' satins, an' all little missy's too, an' her diamond comb, an' her lace shawl, an' wear nuttin' but homespun. Little marse, he wroten heaps 'o letters, an' he didn' furgit he po' ole black mammy. He wroten me hisse'f, an' I got dem letters in my chis' now. I c'yarn read 'em, but I loves 'em. An' all de time, I kep' a-honin' fur him, an' skeert 'bout him. Mistis, she was a brave 'oman—she never let on she was skeert. Night an' mornin', when she read pr'yars in de dinin'-room, wid ole marse an' little missy an' de house-servants settin' roun', she pray fur little marse, 'twell sometimes ole marse he wipe he eyes, an' I hed to fling my ap'on over my hade an' cry; but her voice never shake none. But I never did 'spect ter see him no mo', an' one night—"
Here she hesitated. The dead and gone tragedy rose up bodily before her eyes, and she paused a moment, gasping in contemplation of it.
"One night I was settin' by de charmber fire, an' I hear a cart come up ter de front do'; an' I wonder what kin' o' folks 'twas comin' dat time o' night in a cart. So I run out an' open de do' as soon as I heerd de knock—an' 'twas our Jake. 'Whar's little marse?' I ask him, ketchin' hol' on him. Jake look at me, an' he was kinder ashy, an' he couldn't speak. An' I hear ole marse an' missis comin'; an' sumpin' was in de cart all covered up, an' two men was takin' it out. When Jake seed missis, he start ter trimble; an' ole marse he shout, 'Whar's yo' marster?—whar's my son?' An' Jake he pint ter de cart."
At this point she stopped. She took out a tattered handkerchief and began to finger it nervously. The afternoon shadows had lengthened since she had begun.
"Dey brung de coffin in de parlor, an' sot it down on cheers. He look jes' like he did de mornin' he rid away, but bofe legs was broke. Nobody teched him but me an' Jake. He hed two letters in he pocket, an' one was a letter I had done got little missy ter write fur me, tellin' him to take keer o' hisself. Ole marse, he do mighty queer. Arter ev'ything was fixed, he come an' set down by de coffin, an' he never cry nor nuttin'—he jes' put he han' ev'y now an' den on little marse's head, an' say, 'My son, my son Marmaduke!' Missis she set by him, an' talk ter him, an' pray wid him, an' read de Bible to him, an' seem like she didn't think 'bout nuttin' but comfortin' old marse. Little missy she creep upsty'ars into little marse's room an' flung herself on de floor, an' lay like she was dead, 'twell I took her up in my arms, and settin' down in de rockin'-cheer, she see me cryin', an' she cry too.
"Ole marse he do jes' de same arter de funeral. He set an' look at little marse's picter, an' he wouldn't let nobody move he whip off'n de rack, nor a ole p'yar o' spurs o' little marse's.