Chloe brought the raisins over to Miss Madeira at last, and let them drop slowly into the crock, watching carefully for stray bits of stem.
"Simlike nowadays ef he teef go agin a hardness spile he tas' fuh de cake," she said anxiously.
"We do have to humour his poor appetite, don't we, Chloe? Never mind, he'll be better soon, I hope."
"Whut madder wid he, Miss Sally, innyhow, Honey?"
"Just overwork, I think, Chloe. Works all the time; in the office now, bent double over his desk."
The darky shuffled restlessly on her flat feet. "Simlike to me he pester'd. I d'n know. Miss Sally, who else gwine eat dishyer cake tumorreh, Honey?"
"I'm not expecting any company at all, Chloe. Father isn't really well enough to care to talk to people."
"Miss Honey, simlike de house gittin' mighty lonesome nowadays. Taint like it uster be."
"Do you feel it, Chloe? Do you know I've grown to like it better quiet." The girl's voice was wistful, she let the batter trickle recklessly while she gazed off out of the window. Then she sighed and began to beat the batter very hard.
"Miss Honey-love?"