“How did this happen, Jane?” he asked in a subdued voice, adding, with assumed severity, “You ought to have taken better care of your mistress.”

“Now look a-hyuh, Doctuh Price,” returned the old woman in an unctuous whisper, “you don’ wanter come talkin’ none er yo’ foolishness ’bout my not takin’ keer er Mis’ ’Livy. She never would ‘a’ said sech a thing!  Seven er eight mont’s ago, w’en she sent fer me, I says ter her, says I:—­

“‘Lawd, Lawd, honey!  You don’ tell me dat after all dese long w’ary years er waitin’ de good Lawd is done heared yo’ prayer an’ is gwine ter sen’ you de chile you be’n wantin’ so long an’ so bad?  Bless his holy name!  Will I come an’ nuss yo’ baby?  Why, honey, I nussed you, an’ nussed yo’ mammy thoo her las’ sickness, an’ laid her out w’en she died.  I wouldn’ let nobody e’se nuss yo’ baby; an’ mo’over, I’m gwine ter come an’ nuss you too.  You’re young side er me, Mis’ ’Livy, but you’re ove’ly ole ter be havin’ yo’ fus’ baby, an’ you’ll need somebody roun’, honey, w’at knows all ‘bout de fam’ly, an’ deir ways an’ deir weaknesses, an’ I don’ know who dat’d be ef it wa’n’t me.’

“‘’Deed, Mammy Jane,’ says she, ‘dere ain’ nobody e’se I’d have but you.  You kin come ez soon ez you wanter an’ stay ez long ez you mineter.’

“An hyuh I is, an’ hyuh I’m gwine ter stay.  Fer Mis’ ’Livy is my ole mist’ess’s daughter, an’ my ole mist’ess wuz good ter me, an’ dey ain’ none er her folks gwine ter suffer ef ole Jane kin he’p it.”

“Your loyalty does you credit, Jane,” observed the doctor; “but you haven’t told me yet what happened to Mrs. Carteret to-day.  Did the horse run away, or did she see something that frightened her?”

“No, suh, de hoss didn’ git skeered at nothin’, but Mis’ ’Livy did see somethin’, er somebody; an’ it wa’n’t no fault er mine ner her’n neither,—­it goes fu’ther back, suh, fu’ther dan dis day er dis year.  Does you ‘member de time w’en my ole mist’ess, Mis’ ’Livy upstairs’s mammy, died?  No?  Well, you wuz prob’ly ‘way ter school den, studyin’ ter be a doctuh.  But I’ll tell you all erbout it.

“Wen my ole mist’ess, Mis’ ‘Liz’beth Merkell,—­an’ a good mist’ess she wuz,—­tuck sick fer de las’ time, her sister Polly—­ole Mis’ Polly Ochiltree w’at is now—­come ter de house ter he’p nuss her.  Mis’ ’Livy upstairs yander wuz erbout six years ole den, de sweetes’ little angel you ever laid eyes on; an’ on her dyin’ bed Mis’ ‘Liz’beth ax’ Mis’ Polly fer ter stay hyuh an’ take keer er her chile, an’ Mis’ Polly she promise’.  She wuz a widder fer de secon’ time, an’ didn’ have no child’en, an’ could jes’ as well come as not.

“But dere wuz trouble after de fune’al, an’ it happen’ right hyuh in dis lib’ary.  Mars Sam wuz settin’ by de table, w’en Mis’ Polly come downstairs, slow an’ solemn, an’ stood dere in de middle er de flo’, all in black, till Mars Sam sot a cheer fer her.

“‘Well, Samuel,’ says she, ‘now dat we’ve done all we can fer po’ ’Liz’beth, it only ‘mains fer us ter consider Olivia’s future.’