"And ye ain't goin' fur to buy it yourself?"
"No Karen — I am not rich enough to keep a country house."
"You had ought to have it," said Karen. "It don't belong to nobody else but you. And you don't know who's a goin' to have it, Governor?"
"I don't know."
"'Tain't likely they'll let the old woman stay in her corner, whoever they'll be," said Karen. "Well — 'tain't fur now to the end, — and then I'll get a better place where they won't turn me out. I wish I was there, Governor."
"'There' will be better at the end of your way, Karen, than at any other time."
"Ay — O I know it, dear; but I get so impatient, days, — I want to be gone. It's better waiting."
"Perhaps you'll have something yet to do for us, Karen," said
Winnie.
"Ye're too fur off," said the old woman. "Karen's done all she can for ye when she's took care of ye this time. But I'll find what I have to do — and I'll do it — and then I'll go!" — she said, with a curious modulation of the tones of her voice that came near some of the Methodist airs in which she delighted. "Governor'll take care o' you, Winnie; and the Lord'll take care o' him!"
Both brother and sister smiled a little at Karen's arrangement of things; but neither contradicted her.