"Ben doin'?" repeated Viny, scared almost to death inwardly, but preserving a cool exterior. "Nothin', only shettin' the draw'; plaguey thing wouldn't stay put. Tore my dress," she added mumblingly to fill out the pause.
"Where?" said Caryl, looking sharply at her.
"Dar," said Viny, with a violent twist, so that she could compass the back breadths of her blue gingham frock, and she pointed abruptly to a cat-a-cornered rent.
"Oh, no, you didn't," contradicted Caryl, looking her through and through, and giving her a small shake, "tear that either; I heard Maum Patty scold you yesterday for letting Jip bite it and snip out a piece."
"Well, somefin tore," said Viny. "I donno whar 'tis, but it's somewhars. A mighty smart tare, too, Miss Ca."
"I'll lock, and lock, and lock," declared the young girl, now down on her knees before her precious drawer, "before I run the chance of your rummaging fingers getting here again. Now then, Viny!"
"Yes'm," said the little black girl obsequiously, and rolling her eyes to all quarters; "Oh, yes'm!"
"We are going to move, Viny," said her young mistress, taking the key out of its lock, and turning her back on drawers and contents, to sit on the floor with hands folded in her lap while she watched the effect of her words.
"MOVE?" echoed Viny with a start; "Oh, lawks! whatever's dat, Miss?"
"Why, go to a new place," said Caryl, laughing in spite of herself. "For mercy's sake, child, do take your eyes in! It'll be very fine, Viny, oh, so fine!" she cried enthusiastically.