A contented mumble reached her; evidently the mislaid coverings had been
found.
She stirred herself, and called the girls, Eleanor and Sue. "Will you
bring father the pile of pictures on my dresser, children?"
They skipped quietly up the stairs.
In a few moments they chattered back through the dining-room, where Mary
was adjusting the linen into a cedar chest. Sue stumbled over a corner
of the carpet; several unframed photographs slipped out of her arms. Her
father looked up impatiently. She recovered them in a moment, and spread
them on the bare table.
"Mother, this is me, isn't it? 'N' this is Pelham, 'n' the baby picture
is Hollis--isn't it, mother? Nell says it's Pell too."
"That's Hollis, children. Hurry: your father is waiting; he's ready to
pack them."
The girls reluctantly went on, arguing over the identity of a befrizzed,
balloon-sleeved aunt.
She heard her eldest son in the kitchen now, asking Aunt Sarah if she
too were going to the new home. Sarah had been her mammy, and had taken
care of all four of the children.
The rich black voice laughed hugely at the question. "Is I gwine? Is
Aunt Sarah gwine? Is _you_ gwine! Better ask yer maw if she gwineter
take you. Whar Mis' Mary Barbour goes, I goes!"