Stella's eyes rounded with satisfaction; with the intimate impertinence
native to negroes who have grown old in confidential employ, she nodded
her head proudly. "Mah boys dey got along finely wid deir paw, Miss'
Mary. Thank you kin'ly, ma'am, fuh speakin' to Mr. Judson."
Finally the trunks and boxes were packed, with the help of neighbors
from Lilydale. Brother Adams' boys got most of her sons' clothes,
except the newest suits; these she folded into the bottom of the biggest
trunk for future emergencies. Peter was on hand, at Mr. Judson's orders,
to crate such of the furniture as she wished to take; although many of
the extra things went to this friend and that.... There did not seem
much use in taking everything.
Babe's cap with the new mining lamp, Diana's school books and framed
diploma, the old family Bible, Ed's re-shined deputy's badge, were
wrapped carefully together.
At length the last package was hoisted onto the wagon, and after laying
the shoebox of lunch on the seat Peter was to occupy, and taking a final
drink of spring water, she clambered carefully up to the driver's bench.
Peter hopped up with gray-haired, cricket-like agility, clucked sharply,
and the horses jogged off.
They drove behind the crest, on the circling road above Lilydale. Peter
chuckled to himself.
"What you laughin' at?"
"Ah'se thinkin', sistuh Stella, dat you sho' buried a passel er people
in dis place."