white apron, and high,
well-starched turban, her black polished face glowing with satisfaction,
she lingered, with needless punctiliousness, around the arrangements of
the table, merely as an excuse for talking a little to her mistress.

"Laws, now! won't it look natural to him?" she said. "Thar,--I set his
plate just whar he likes it round by the fire. Mas'r George allers
wants de warm seat. O, go way!--why didn't Sally get out de _best_
tea-pot,--de little new one, Mas'r George got for Missis, Christmas?
I'll have it out! And Missis has heard from Mas'r George?" she said,
inquiringly.

"Yes, Chloe; but only a line, just to say he would be home tonight, if
he could,--that's all."

"Didn't say nothin' 'bout my old man, s'pose?" said Chloe, still
fidgeting with the tea-cups.

"No, he didn't. He did not speak of anything, Chloe. He said he would
tell all, when he got home."

"Jes like Mas'r George,--he's allers so ferce for tellin' everything
hisself. I allers minded dat ar in Mas'r George. Don't see, for my part,
how white people gen'lly can bar to hev to write things much as they do,
writin' 's such slow, oneasy kind o' work."

Mrs. Shelby smiled.

"I'm a thinkin' my old man won't know de boys and de baby. Lor'! she's
de biggest gal, now,--good she is, too, and peart, Polly is. She's out
to the house, now, watchin' de hoe-cake. I 's got jist de very pattern
my old man liked so much, a bakin'. Jist sich as I gin him the mornin'
he was took off. Lord bless us! how I felt, dat ar morning!"

Mrs. Shelby sighed, and felt a heavy weight on her heart, at this
allusion. She had felt uneasy, ever since she received her son's letter,
lest something should prove to be hidden behind the veil of silence
which he had drawn.

"Missis has got dem bills?" said Chloe, anxiously.

"Yes, Chloe."

"'Cause I wants to show my old man dem very bills de _perfectioner_
gave me. 'And,' say he, 'Chloe, I wish you'd stay longer.' 'Thank
you, Mas'r,' says I, 'I would, only my old man's coming home, and
Missis,--she can't do without me no longer.' There's jist what I telled
him. Berry nice man, dat Mas'r Jones was."

Chloe had pertinaciously insisted that the very bills in which her wages
had been paid should be preserved, to show her husband, in memorial of
her capability. And Mrs. Shelby had readily consented to humor her in
the request.

"He won't know Polly,--my old man won't. Laws, it's five year since they
tuck him! She was a