"Bless the boy," said she, "I mind jest how he looked when I cut this har
from his head, the very day his mother was buried. Poor Marster William,"
continued she, "most likely he's gone to 'tarnity 'fore this time."
As she said this tears, which were none the less sincere because she who
wept them belonged to Africa's sable race, fell upon the once bright but
now faded lock of hair, which the faithful creature had for more than
forty years preserved as a memento of him whom she had long since looked
upon as dead, although she had never ceased to pray for him, and always
ended her accustomed prayer, "Now I lay me--" with the petition that "God
would take keer of Marster William and bring him home again." Who shall
say that the prayer was not answered?
Going back to her seat, she took up her knitting and was soon living over
the past, when she was young and dwelt with "the old folks at home."
Suddenly there came from the house the sound of merry laughter. High above
all the rest was a voice, whose clear, ringing tones made Katy start up so
quickly that, as she afterward described it, "a sudden misery cotched her
in the back, and pulled her down quicker." There was something in the
sound of that laugh, which seemed to Katy like an echo of the past. "But,"
thought she, "I'm deaf like and mebby didn't hear straight. I'll go to the
kitchen agin and hark."
In a few minutes she was in the kitchen and dropping down on the meal
chest as the first seat handy, she said, "Ho, Judy, is you noticed the
strange gentleman's laugh?"
"I hain't noticed nothing" answered Judy, who chanced to be out of sorts,
because, as she said, "the white folks had done et up every atom of egg;
they didn't even leave her the yaller of one!"
"Well, suthin in his laugh kerried me back to the old plantation in
Carlina, and I b'lieve, between you and me, Judy, that Marster William's
here," said Katy.
"Marster William, Marster William; what on airth do you mean?" asked Judy,
forgetting the eggs in her surprise.
At the mention of "Marster William," who was looked upon as a great man,
but a dead one, the little negroes gathered around, and one of them, our
old friend, Bobaway, said, "Oh, Laddy, I hope 'tis Marster William, for
Marster Josh'll be so tickled that he won't keer if we don't do nothin'
for a week; and I needn't milk the little heifer, nuther! Oh, good, good!"