was a peep at the
little white frock which covered the rest of the contents; and Aunt
Patsy well knew that the sight of those little blue shoes would be to
her mistress like two little feet coming back from the grave.

Patsy had been much too old to act as nurse to the infant, Annie Peyton,
then regarded as the daughter of the house, but she had always felt for
the child the deepest affection; and now that she herself was so near
the end of her career that she had little fear of being bewitched, she
was willing to give up the safeguards she had so long possessed, in
order that they might protect the man whom Miss Annie had loved and
married. But they had failed, or rather it had been impossible to use
them, and Miss Annie's husband had been stricken down. "It's pow'ful
hard to git roun' ole miss," she groaned. "She too much fur ole folks
like I is."

At this remark Uncle Isham fired up. Although the conduct of his
mistress troubled him at times very much he was intensely loyal to her,
and he instantly caught the meaning of this aspersion against her. "Now,
look h'yar, Aun' Patsy," he exclaimed, "wot you talkin' 'bout? Wot ole
miss got to do wid Mister Crof' sprainin' he ankle? Ole miss warn't dar;
an' when I done fotch him up to de house, she cut roun' an' do more fur
him dan anybody else. She got de hot water, an' she dipped de flannels
in it, an' she wrop up de ankle all herse'f, an' when she got him all
fixed comfable in de offis, she says to me, says she, 'Now, Isham, you
wait on Mister Crof', an' you gib him eberything he want, an' when de
cool ob de ebenin' comes on you make a fire in dat fireplace, an' stay
whar he kin call you wheneber he wants you to wait on him.' I didn't
eben come down h'yar till I axed him would he want me fur half an hour."

"Well," said Aunt Patsy, her eyes softening a little, "p'raps she didn't
do it dis time. It mout a been his own orkardness. I hopes to mussiful
goodness dat dat was so. But wot fur you call him Mister Crof'? Is dat
he fus' name?"

"I reckon so," said Isham. "He one ob de fam'ly now, an' I reckon dey
calls him by he fus' name. An' now, look h'yar, Aun' Patsy, I wants you
not to disremember dis h'yar. Don' you go imaginin' ebery time anything
happens to folks, that ole miss done been kunjerin' 'em. Dat ain't
pious, an' 'taint suitable fur a ole pusson like you, Aun' Patsy, wot's
jus' settin' on de poach steps ob heaben, a waitin' till somebody finds
out you's dar, an'