let's you in."

Aunt Patsy turned her great spectacles full upon him, and then she said:
"You, Isham, ef eber you gits a call to preach to folks, you jus' sing
out: 'Oh, Lor', I aint fit!' And den you go crack your head wid a
mill-stone, fur fear you git called agin, fru mistake."

Uncle Isham made no answer to this piece of advice, but taking up some
clothes which Aunt Patsy's great granddaughter had washed and ironed for
him, he left the cabin. He was a man much given to attending to his own
business, and paying very little attention to those affairs of his
mistress's household, with which he had no personal concern. When Mr
Croft first came to the house he, as well as Aunt Patsy, had been told
that it was Mr Null, the husband of Miss Annie; and although not
thinking much about it, he had always supposed this to be the case. But
now it struck him as a very strange thing that Miss Annie did not attend
to her husband, but allowed his mistress and himself to do everything
that was done for him. It was a question which his mind was totally
incapable of solving, but when he reached the house, he spoke to Letty
on the subject. "Bress your soul!" exclaimed that well-nourished
person, "dat's not Mister Null, wot married Miss Annie. Dat's Mister
Crof', an' he aint married to nobody. Mister Null he aint come yet, but
I reckon he'll be along soon."

"Well den," exclaimed Isham, much surprised, "how come Aun' Patsy to
take he for Miss Annie's husband?"

"Oh, git out!" contemptuously exclaimed Letty, "don' you go put no
'count on dem fool notions wot Aun' Patsy got in she old head. Nobody
knows how dey come dar, no more'n how dey eber manage to git out. 'Taint
no use splainin nothin' to Aun' Patsy, an' if she b'lieves dat's Miss
Annie's husband, you can't make her b'lieve it's anybody else. Jes' you
lef her alone. Nuffin she b'lieves aint gwine to hurt her."

And Isham, remembering his frequent ill success in endeavoring to make
Aunt Patsy think as she ought to think, concluded that this was good
advice.

At the time of the conversation just mentioned, Lawrence was sitting in
a large easy chair in front of the open door of the room of which he had
been put in possession. His injured foot was resting upon a cushioned
stool, a small table stood by him, on which were his cigar and match
cases; a pitcher of iced water and a glass, and a late copy of a
semi-weekly paper. Through the doorway, which was but two steps higher
than