Colonel Marsden's grasp tightened on his wife's slender white fingers.
"Mam' Sarah was afraid I would make her nervous. She would steal her away, carry her down to the loom-house, and rock her to sleep on her lap."
"I remember it perfectly, Mamma," said Roberta, grave as an owl. "I wore the same robe and cloak and cap that I dressed the gun in that time."
Colonel Marsden laughed heartily; her diverting words, coming just at that moment, were a relief to both. The negroes had talked to the child so much about her birth and babyhood, she had come to believe that she remembered them herself. Every date of late years went back to the time "fo' Lil Missus wuz born'd," or the time "sence she was born'd," or the time "when she was born'd." Old Squire especially humored the conceit:
"Lemme see, Lil Missus; what room?"
"The front room up stairs, Uncle Squire, with the sweet-brier roses climbing in the window, and the beautiful red and black rag carpet Mam' Sarah made."
"Jes' so, Lil Missus; what bed?"
"The great high bed, with the posts and tester and muslin ruffle, I remember Aunt Betsy put a little Bible in my hand as soon as I was born, and shut my fingers down tight on it, because she wanted me to love the Bible first, before every thing."
"Jes' so, Lil Missus; jes' so. I allers sed you wuzer sharp one. But who'd s'poze, now, you cud rikerlec so fur back? He-he-he."
Roberta cuddled down, like a kitten, on the rug before the blazing fire, and looked delightedly at her mother and father.