"I didn't tell him anything. I was so ashamed I couldn't talk. I just ran away like a silly."
"Oomph," said mammy again, "an' whut you gwine to tell him?"
"Oh, I don't know. Don't you think he's a very nice young man, Mr. Northcope, mammy? And then his father's so nice."
Mammy's face clouded. "I doan' see whaih yo' Ha'ison pride is," she said; "co'se, he may be nice enough, but does you want to tell him yes de fust t'ing, so's he'll t'ink dat you jumped at de chanst to git him an' git back in de homestid?"
"Oh, mammy," cried Mima; she had gone all white and cold.
"You do' know nothin' 'bout his quality. You a Ha'ison yo'se'f. Who is he to be jumped at an' tuk at de fust axin'? Ef he wants you ve'y bad he'll ax mo' dan once."
"You needn't have reminded me, mammy, of who I am," said Mima. "I had no intention of telling Mr. Northcope yes. You needn't have been afraid for me." She fibbed a little, it is to be feared.
"Now don't talk dat 'way, chile. I know you laks him, an' I do' want to stop you f'om tekin' him. Don't you say no, ez ef you wasn' nevah gwine to say nothin' else. You jes' say a hol'in' off no."
"I like Mr. Northcope as a friend, and my no to him will be final."
The dinner did not go down very well with Mima that evening. It stopped in her throat, and when she swallowed, it brought the tears to her eyes. When it was done, she hurried away to her room.