"Mammy," she crept over to the side of the bed where Dicey's ear was most convenient. "Mammy, you love me very, very much—don't you?"
Dicey scented danger. In a moment her ears were keen.
"Sho' I does, honey-chile, you knows dat."
"And you would do anything I asked you, wouldn't you, Mammy?"
"Mebbe so—whut yer wants now?"
Natalia sat up and clasped her hands about her knees.
"I want to go to see him to-night, Mammy. Will you take me?"
Dicey leaned over the bed and pulled the quilt tight about the little figure.
"Lay down, honey," she said soothingly, "and go ter sleep. All dis heah 'citement bout goin' way done addled yer. Co'se yer cyant go see Massa Sargent ternight. Who ebber heerd tell ob sich a thing? Go ter sleep now—I'se gwine sing ter yer bout Moses—"
"I don't want to hear about Moses, Mammy." Natalia threw off the quilt and sprang out of bed. "I want to see him, Mammy, before he goes. I want to tell him good-bye. Please take me."