Tempest and Sunshine

"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!"