victuals back and to when it was cold and
slippery."

When Aunt Milly, who was up to her elbows in dough, saw her visitor
approaching, she exclaimed, "Lor'-a-mighty, if thar ain't ole miss
coming straight into this lookin' hole! Jeff, you quit that ar'
pokin' in dem ashes, and knock Lion out that kittle; does you har?
And you, Polly," speaking to a superannuated negress who was sitting
near the table, "you just shove that ar' piece of dough, I done save
to bake for you and me, under your char, whar she won't see it."

Polly complied, and by this time Mrs. Nichols was at the door,
surveying the premises, and thinking how differently she'd make
things look after a little.

"Does missus want anything?" asked Aunt Milly, and grandma replied,
"Yes, I want to know if 'tain't nigh about _noon_."

This is a term never used among the blacks, and rolling up her white
eyes, Aunt Milly answered, "You done got me now, sartin, for this
chile know nothin' what you mean more'n the deadest critter livin'."

As well as she could, Mrs. Nichols explained her meaning, and Aunt
Milly replied, "Oh, yes, yes, I know now. 'Is it most _dinner time?'
Yes--dinner'll be done ready in an hour. We never has it till two no
day, and when we has company not till three."

Confident that she should starve, Mrs. Nichols advanced a step or two
into the kitchen, whereupon Aunt Milly commenced making excuses,
saying, "she was gwine to clar up one of these days, and then if
Thomas Jefferson and Marquis De Lafayette didn't quit that litterin'
they'd cotch it"

Attracted by the clean appearance of Aunt Polly, who, not having to
work, prided herself upon always being neatly dressed, Mrs. Nichols
walked up to her, and, to use a vulgar expression, the two old ladies
were soon "hand-in-glove," Mrs. Nichols informing her of her loss,
and how sorry Nancy Scovandyke would feel when she heard of it, and
ending by giving her the full particulars of her husband's sickness
and death. In return Aunt Polly said that "she was born and bred
along with ole Marster Richards, Miss Matilda's father, and that she,
too, had buried a husband."

With a deep sigh, Mrs. Nichols was about, to commiserate her, when
Aunt Polly cut her short by saying, "'Twant of no kind o' count, as
she never relished him much."

"Some drunken critter, I warrant," thought Mrs. Nichols, at the same
time asking what his name was.

"Jeems," said Aunt Polly.

This was not definite enough for