"He wuz er talkin' erbout some men, sah. You ain't got no cullud ladies ober at yo' house now, is you?"
"No, an' I don't want any mo' for none could take the place of old mammy."
"No, sah, I reckons not, but I wuz jest er thinkin' dat ef you had any dar I would drap ober a visitin'. I's allus sorter s'ciety struck atter I goes ter er funul. It's den dat I kin fetch 'em wid my talk. It's easy ter out-talk er lady atter er funul. I's had 'em take down er ole glove an' empty dar money in my han'."
"What's your name?"
"Da calls me Ham, suh."
"Well, Ham, I reckon thar's a good deal of the scoundrel about you."
"Ain't it funny suh, dat I's yered dat befo'? Yas, suh; but scounnul or not, I'll keep er sharp lookout on dat man Peters an' come an' tell you ef suthin' happen."
Lou was tearful and depressed over the death of the old woman, whom she had loved, who indeed was as a gentle grandmother to her, and going home from the burial had but little to say; and Tom, respecting what to him was a strange grief, walked along in silence. And for the most part Jim was silent, too, but Mrs. Mayfield was aroused by what she had seen and heard. "Every day this rugged world up here presents something new, Mr. Reverend. Instead of becoming more able to compare it with other places I have known, it is further and further removed as time passes. Of course I had read books and heard songs, but never before coming here did I believe that in real slavery had there existed poetry."
"They tell me, ma'm, that the greatest poetry has come out of the dark," he replied, walking with his eyes cast down.
"Then even as a Southerner you don't believe that slavery was right."