"You all ain' gwine away a step till you eat a snack," she insisted. "I
got a chicken in dyar I done kilt to take to church to-morrow. Ain't I
glad it's ready for my baby child! And I'll mix some hoecakes and bake
some sweet taters and gi' you a pitcher o' cool sweet milk. My precious
baby, you set right dyar in de do'. I can't take my eyes off you any
more'n if dee was glued to you."

A table was set under the great oak and Charity, beaming with joy,
waited on her guests. "Richard ain't gwi' forgive hisself for goin' to
mill to-day," she said. "Dunno huccome he went, anyway. He could 'a' put
it off till Monday. But if you gwi' be at de old place till Chewsday, me
an' him will sho hobble up to see you."

As the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, Miss Dorcas and Anne started
on their homeward journey. Miss Dorcas clucked and jerked the lines, and
Firefly ambled homeward, now jog-trotting along the road, now pausing to
nibble grass on the wayside.

CHAPTER XXIV

All too soon for Anne, came the day that was to take her to the city.
Generous Mrs. Collins insisted on slipping into Miss Dorcas's trunk a
liberal supply of Lizzie's clothes, and she gave Anne one of Lizzie's
best frocks to travel in and a muslin hat that flopped over her face.
Disguised in these, she was to be smuggled away on a night train to
prevent her being discovered and taken back to the asylum. They were the
more concerned about the matter because Mr. Collins heard at the
blacksmith shop new inquiries about the lost child. Miss Dorcas charged
Charity and Richard, who trudged the long eight miles to visit their
"precious baby child," not to mention having seen Anne. Richard brought
on his shoulder a great bag full of things "for Marse Will Watkins's
child"--apples, popcorn, potatoes. For days Mrs. Collins had been baking
cakes and pies and selecting sweetmeats, preserves, and pickles from her
store. The supplies were so liberal that after a barrel was packed and
repacked and re-repacked there were almost as many things left out as
were put in. Mrs. Collins wanted to put them in another barrel, but Miss
Dorcas said that the supply already packed would more than fill her tiny
pantry.

Mrs. Collins consoled herself as best she could. "Christmas is coming,"
she said; "it's slow but it's on the way. And when it do get here, I'll
send you a barrel packed to show you what a barrel can hold."

The morning after Anne's regretful farewell to her o