t sleep
at night for vain 'maginings of hearing ole men coughin' an' seein' ole
monks paradin' an' layin' cole hands on her face. She must not sleep
alone, fer she's never been parted from her mammy before; but she hates
dat coarse Sheila Kelly; so, mammy, you must go up ter de house an'
watch in my dear girl's room ebery night till her own mammy comes from
Richmun', an' yo' must sleep all day an' lie awake all night ter soothe
my nervous darlin' ef she gits frightened, an' mammy, you shall hab a
silber dollar ever' mornin' fer takin' keer ob my lub.' So you see why
I come, honey. Kase he want me, not fer de silber dollar; kase I don'
mean ter tek hit at all, only I didn't tell him so, not ter git inter an
argyment wif him. So now, honey, lemme he'p yer to baid, an' I'se
warrant de ha'nts sha'n't 'sturb you dis night."

"Then you don't believe the stories of the old monk, mammy?" Dainty
said, timidly, as she laid her golden head down on the lace pillow.

"Monks, indeed! No, chile, no; deir aine no monks at Ellsworf, an' never
was, 'cept when de circus kem ter de kentry, las' summer was a year
agone. Dey was two cute li'l monks den, wif white faces like li'l ole
men, an' dey was mighty cur'us li'l rascals, an' dat sassy wif deir red
suits and yaller caps; but I aine never heerd o' deir gitten loose from
de circus, an' I don' b'leeve dey ever did, an' you can 'pend on what I
say, fer I been at Ellsworf ever sence I was born, an' dat's a hunnerd
years more or less. Now shet yo' eyes, ma honey. I gwine sing yo' to
sleep."

And while Dainty dozed away, thinking gratefully of the fond care of her
noble lover, the old woman crooned over her in monotonous cadences the
lulling nursery song:

"Byo, baby girl, bye--
Byo, li'l girl!
Oh, run ter 'er mammy,
Fer ter git 'er out o' trouble--
Mammy's li'l baby girl!"

Softly the white lids drooped over the tired eyes, and Dainty slept
peacefully as a little child.

Then the old black mammy hushed her lullaby song and relapsed into
silence, gazing in admiring pride at the lovely sleeping face under its
billows of golden hair, perhaps wondering why God made people so
different--some as fair and beautiful as angels, others black and homely
like herself.

But no discontent or envy marred her humble thoughts. Instead, she
murmured a low prayer of blessing for the girl who had prayed for
herself, kneeling by the bed, but a little while ago; then put out the