"That is strange," I said; "I never wore a ring in all my life!"
"Das de sign, suh," muttered the old man; "das de Ormond sign, suh. Yo' pap wore de ghos'-ring, an' his pap wore it too, suh. All de Ormonds done wore de ghos'-ring fore dey wus wedded. Hit am dess dat-a-way. Mars' George--"
He hesitated, looking up at me with gentle, dim eyes.
"Miss Dorry, suh--"
He stopped short, then dropped his voice to a whisper.
"'Fore Miss Dorry git up outen de baid, suh, I done tote de bre'kfus in de mawnin'. An' de fustest word dat li'l Miss Dorry say, 'Cato,' she say, 'whar Mars' George?' she say. 'He 'roun' de yahd, Miss Dorry,' I say. ''Pears lak he gettin' mo' res'less an' mis'ble, Miss Dorry.'
"'Cato,' she 'low, 'I spec' ma' haid gwine ache if I lie hyah in dishyere baid mo'n two free day. Whar ma' milk an' co'n pone, Cato?'
"So I des sot de salver down side de baid, suh, an' li'l Miss Dorry she done set up in de baid, suh, an' hole out one li'l bare arm--"
He laid a wrinkled finger on his lips; his dark face quivered with mystery and emotion.
"One li'l bare arm," he repeated, "an' I see de sign!"