"Anybody can't, Joe! that's where you're out. It takes one o' them highflyers. And then they thinks, when their heels and their heads is all right, they've got up above the rest of we."
"You can put your hair any way you've a mind to," returned her husband.
"There can't none of 'em get ahead o' you there."
Both parties glanced at Rotha. Her long hair was twisted up in a loose knot on the top of her head; very becoming and very graceful; for without being in the least disorderly it was careless, and without being in the least complicated or artificial it was inimitable, by one not initiated. Husband and wife looked at her, looked at each other, and laughed.
"Mis' Busby writ me about you," said Joe, slightly changing the subject.
"She said, you was one o' her family."
"She is my aunt."
"She is! I didn't know Mis' Busby never had no brother, nor sister', nor nothin'."
"She had a sister once."
"She aint livin' then. And you live with Mis' Busby?"
"Yes."
"Well, 'taint none o' my business, but Mis' Busby didn't say, and I didn't know what to think. She said you was comin', but she didn't say how long you was goin' to stay; and we'd like to know that, Prissy and me; 'cause o' course it makes a difference."