“What chile is it, Auntie?” enquired Elsy.

“I do’ know what de name is,” answered the old woman, “but a lady cum to my cabin one night wid a berry sick gal chile and de leetle boy, and next day de gal die, and in de ebening some police come and take away de lady because ’she ‘teal money,’ and dey lef de dead chile and de libing one wid me.”

“Goodness sakes, Auntie,” interrupted Elsy, “what did you do wid de dead chile?”

“Why, gal, I bury her next mornin,” replied the old woman, “and de leetle boy bin stayin wid me eber since; but I don’t want to keep him, for dis nigger hab no right to hab white chile a keepin to herself.”

“You better see de Doctor, den,” Elsy observed.  “When he come in I will tell him dat you want to see him patickler.”

“Dat’s a good gal,” answered the old negro, “you tell him dat I want to see him, but don’t tell him what I want him for—­I rader tell him dat mysef.”

“Berry well, Auntie,” she replied, “de Doctor will come in about dinner time, and as soon as he is done eatin I will talk to him about it.  But do you tink he will bring de chile home, yah, and take care ob him?”

“Ob course he will,” said the old woman, “he neber see any body want but he get him plenty and take care ob him.”

“What kind a chile is de one you had at your cabin?” asked Elsy.

“Jes de lubliest baby you eber seed in your life,” answered the old negro.  “He is one ob de best children I eber had taking care ob.”

“Don’t he cry none for his mudder,” enquired Elsy.

“Ob course he cry plenty de first day,” she replied, “but aterwards he behabe well, for I promise him dat he mammy will come back soon.  He am a rale good chile, and I would lub to keep him wid me all time, but I ’fraid de police will get ater me for habin him.”

“Dat’s so,” remarked Elsy, “but you can take care ob him a’ter you tell de boss—­you can come here and stay.”

“No, gal,” she answered, “I can’t leab me old cabin; I been libbing dar dese twelve years, and I got so used to it dat I can’t sleep out ob it.”

“Den I will take care ob de chile for you,” said Elsy, “and you can come ebery now and den and see him.”

“Dat’s so,” she, replied.  “But tell me, gal,” she continued, “whar you come from?”

“I come from New Orleans, Auntie,” replied Elsy.

“What bring you to Jackson?” continued the old woman.

Elsy repeated the tale she had told Dr. Humphries and Alfred, and after she had concluded, the old woman clasped her hands as she exclaimed, “Sake alibe! what become ob your mistis and de childen?”

“I don’t know, Auntie, but my New Orleans mass’r is here now, and I’s been looking for dem.”

“Why de lady and childen dat come to my cabin was from New Orleans too,” observed the old negro.

“You say you don’t know de name?” remarked Elsy.

“No, I forget,” she answered; “but what name did your mistis hab?”