e of herself, frequently
protesting; for, if the truth must be spoken, this move to the city was
violating all the traditions of mammy's life.

"Wh-wh-wh-why, baby! Not teck de grime-stone!" she exclaimed one day, in
reply to Evelyn's protest against her packing that ponderous article.
"How is we gwine sharpen de spade an' de grubbin'-hoe ter work in the
gyard'n?"

"We sha'n't have a garden, mammy."

"No gyard'n!" Mammy sat down upon the grindstone in disgust.
"Wh-wh-wh-what sort o' a fureign no-groun' place is we gwine ter,
anyhow, baby? Honey," she continued, in a troubled voice, "co'se you
know I ain't got educatiom, an' I ain't claim knowledge; b-b-b-but
ain't you better study on it good 'fo' we goes ter dis heah new country?
Dee tells me de cidy's a owdacious place. I been heern a heap o' tales,
but I 'ain't say nothin' Is yer done prayed over it good, baby?"

"Yes, dear. I have prayed that we should do only right. What have you
heard, mammy?"

"D-d-d-de way folks talks, look like death an' terror is des a-layin'
roun' loose in de cidy. Dee tell _me_ dat ef yer des nachelly blows out
yer light ter go ter bed, dat dis heah some'h'n' what stan' fur wick,
hit 'll des keep a-sizzin' an' a-sizzin' out, des like sperityal steam;
_an' hit's clair pizen_!"

"That is true, mammy. But, you see, we won't blow it out. We'll know
better."

"Does yer snuff it out wid snuffers, baby, ur des fling it on de flo'
an' tromp yer foots on it?"

"Neither, mammy. The gas comes in through pipes built into the houses,
and is turned on and off with a valve, somewhat as we let water out of
the refrigerator."

"Um-hm! Well done! Of co'se! On'y, in place o' water what _put out_ de
light, hit's in'ardly filled wid some'h'n' what _favor_ a blaze."

"Exactly."

Mammy reflected a moment. "But de grime-stone gotter stay berhime, is
she? An' is we gwine leave all de gyard'n tools an' implemers ter de
'Onerble Mr. Citified?"

"No, mammy; none of the appurtenances of the homestead are mortgaged. We
must sell them. We need money, you know."

"What is de impertinences o' de homestid, baby? You forgits I ain't
on'erstan' book words."

"Those things intended for family use, mammy. There are the
carriage-horses, the cows, the chickens--"

"Bless goodness fur dat! An' who gwine drive 'em inter de cidy fur us,
honey?"

"Oh, mammy, we must sell them all."

Mammy was almost crying. "An' what sort o' entry is we gwine meck inter
de cidy