aby was just gettin' big enough to be pretty; and there I lay,
feelin' about as bad as I could, but hangin' on to one hope,--that old
Simon, seein' the tornado, would come pretty soon to see where we was.

I lay still quite a spell, listenin'. Presently I heerd a low,
whimperin', pantin' noise, comin' nearer and nearer, and I knew it was
old Lu, a yeller hound of Simon's, that he'd set great store by,
because he brought him from the Old Country. I heerd the dog come
pretty near to where I was, and then stop, and give a long howl. I
tried to call him, but I was all choked up with dust, and for a while
I couldn't make no sound. Finally I called, "Lu! Lu! here, Sir!" and
if ever you heerd a dumb creature laugh, he barked a real laugh, and
come springin' along over towards me. I called ag'in, and he begun to
scratch and tear and pull,--at boards, I guessed, for it sounded like
that; but it wa'n't no use, he couldn't get at me, and he give up at
length and set down right over my head and give another howl, so long
and so dismal I thought I'd as lieves hear the bell a-tollin' my age.

Pretty soon, I heerd another sound,--the baby cryin'; and with that Lu
jumped off whatever 'twas that buried me up, and run. "At any rate,"
thinks I, "baby's alive." And then I bethought myself if 'twa'n't a
painter, after all; they scream jest like a baby, and there's a lot of
them, or there was then, right round in our woods; and Lu was dreadful
fond to hunt 'em; and he never took no notice of baby;--and I couldn't
stir to see!

Oh, dear! the sweat stood all over me! And there I lay, and Simon
didn't come, nor I didn't hear a mouse stir; the air was as still as
death, and I got nigh distracted. Seemed as if all my life riz right
up there in the dark and looked at me. Here I was, all helpless,
may-be never to get out alive; for Simon didn't come, and Russell was
gone away. I'd had a good home, and a kind husband, and all I could
ask; but I hadn't had a contented mind; I'd quarrelled with
Providence, 'cause I hadn't got everything,--and now I hadn't got
nothing. I see just as clear as daylight how I'd nussed up every
little trouble till it growed to a big one,--how I'd sp'ilt Russell's
life, and made him wretched,--how I'd been cross to him a great many
times when I had ought to have been a comfort; and now it was like
enough I shouldn't never see him again,--nor baby, nor mother, nor
Major. And how could I look the Lord in the face, if I did