XIV.
The Basket Overturned.
“Good-bye, dears!” said Daph, as she went forth as usual one morning, with her basket on her head.
“Good-bye, Daffy, dear Daffy!” said the young voices, and she was gone.
Those sweet sounds lingered in the ear of the negro, as she walked along the crowded street, unconscious of all around her, and lost in meditation on the many mercies of her lot.
The passers-by noticed her frank, good face, her tidy figure, and snow-white apron; but she seemed to see no one, until, as if struck with sudden frenzy, she gave one leap into the air, exclaiming,
“Is I in a blessed dream!”
The neat cover flew from the passing basket; far and wide rolled the frosted cakes, and little ragged children made merry with the stores of Daph’s cookery. Little did she care. Her arms were thrown round the knees of an astonished lady, and her lips kissed the hand of the tall, pale gentleman at the lady’s side.
“Pull off the crazy woman!” shouted a bystander, stepping forward to suit the action to the word; but Daph had found a protector, in the confidence of whose kindness she would have faced the world.
“My own missus! my massa!” sobbed the poor negro, as she clung to the loved and long-mourned friends who stood before her.