The subject on her mind was pressing, and she hastened to lead up to it by a judicious question.
"Have any them town gals been out lately to find out about their futures, Aunt July?"
"Dat gal o' de widow Russell's—she wuz de last one out. Da's a new young man what's come to de town, and she's got acquainted wid him at one dem church s'ciety meetin's. I nuvver kin call de name right, so I jest gives hit de sound, and lets hit go at dat—de Christian devil s'ciety. I could see she'd be willin' to give all de shoes in her shop for him. Her high-steppin' ma, dough, she said 'foah she'd see her gal married to a poor man like him, she'd ruther see her dead, and buried in de colored folks' graveyard, wid only one mouner to foller her to de grave and dat one her mother, on foot a walkin'!"
"Did the young lady go home satisfied with what she heerd from you?" queried Mrs. Doggett.
"Did de moon change las' month? Do de ground git wet when hit rain?" laughed the old negress.
"I got some terbaccer and a squirrel, and a sack o' sausage on the buggy seat fer you, Aunt July: s'pose we breng 'em in, and then I'll git you to tell me some thengs. Hit's gittin' late, and I'll have to git along soon."
"De weddin' trouble! Dat's hit—dat's hit!" nodded the old seeress, when after a voluble flow of thanks for the presents, she brought out a coffee-cup and peered solemnly at the grounds in its bottom. "I sees a dark-haared woman, a kind woman, wid two beaux. One of 'em a slim man, t'other un's a big man. De woman gwine marry one dem men, but not widout de resistance o' a black-haared woman. Dis black-haared woman bound to resist de makin' o' dis marriage. She jest can't holp hit. A brown-haared woman too, gwine resist de makin' o' de marriage. I sees letters in de cup. Dar's gwine be found and handed over to de right person a letter dat'll hasten de marriage."
"Can you see which one the men'll git the woman, Aunt July?" Mrs. Doggett leaned forward eagerly.
"De most worthy man—he gwine win her—dat man dat's travelled much, dat's seed a heap o' de country, he's de one!"
"What will the black-haired woman have to do, Aunt July?" besought Mrs. Doggett.