“An’ dar!” she continued, beginning to unload the large basket—­“dar’s a tukky an’ two chickuns offen my own precious roost; nor likewise beholden to ole mis for dem nyder.  An’ dar! dar’s sassidges and blood puddin’s out’n our own dear pig as me an’ ole man Jov’al ris an’ kilt ourselves; an’ in course no ways beholden to ole mis’,” she concluded, arranging these edibles upon the table.

“An’ dar!” she recommenced as she set the smaller basket beside the other things, “dar’s a whole raft o’’serves an’ jellies and pickles as may be useful.  An’ dat’s all for dis time!  An’ now, how is de poor gal, honey?  Is she ’sleep?” she asked, approaching the bed.

“Yes; sleeping her last sleep, Dinah,” solemnly replied Hannah.

“De Lor’ save us! what does you mean by dat, honey?  Is she faint?”

“Look at her, Dinah, and see for yourself!”

“Dead! oh, Lor’-a-mercy!” cried the old woman, drawing back appalled at the sight that met her eyes; for to the animal nature of the pure African negro death is very terrible.

For a moment there was silence in the room, and then the voice of Hannah was heard: 

“So you see the comforts you robbed yourself of to bring to Nora will not be wanted, Dinah.  You must take them back again.”

“Debil burn my poor, ole, black fingers if I teches of ’em to bring ’em home again!  S’posin’ de poor dear gal is gone home? aint you lef wid a mouf of your own to feed, I wonder?  Tell me dat?” sobbed the old woman.

“But, Dinah, I feel as if I should never eat again, and certainly I shall not care what I eat.  And that is your Christmas turkey, too, your only one, for I know that you poor colored folks never have more.”

“Who you call poor?  We’s rich in grace, I’d have you to know!  ’Sides havin’ of a heap o’ treasure laid up in heaven, I reckons!  Keep de truck, chile; for ’deed you aint got no oder ’ternative!  ’Taint Dinah as is a-gwine to tote ’em home ag’n.  Lor’ knows how dey a’mos’ broke my back a-fetchin’ of ’em over here.  ’Taint likely as I’ll be such a consarned fool as to tote ’em all de way back ag’in.  So say no more ’bout it, Miss Hannah!  ‘Sides which how can we talk o’ sich wid de sight o’ she before our eyes!  Ah, Miss Nora!  Oh, my beauty!  Oh, my pet!  Is you really gone an’ died an’ lef’ your poor ole Aunt Dinah behind as lubbed you like de apple of her eye!  What did you do it for, honey?  You know your ole Aunt Dinah wasn’t a-goin’ to look down on you for nothin’ as is happened of,” whined the old woman, stooping and weeping over the corpse.  Then she accidentally touched the sleeping babe, and started up in dismay, crying: 

“What dis?  Oh, my good Lor’ in heaben, what dis?”

“It is Nora’s child, Dinah.  Didn’t you know she had one?” said Hannah; with a choking voice and a crimson face.

“Neber even s’picioned!  I knowed as she’d been led astray, poor thin’, an’ as how it was a-breakin’ of her heart and a-killin’ of her!  Leastways I heard it up yonder at de house; but I didn’t know nuffin’ ’bout dis yere!”