the basket.
“Just a little chicken fo’ you and a few aigs.”
“Oh, you are so thoughtful!” Sarah Smith’s was a grateful heart.
‚ÄúGo ‚Äôlong now‚ÅÝ‚Äîhit ain‚Äôt a thing.‚Äù
Then came a pause, the old woman sliding into the proffered seat, while over her genial, dimpled smile there dropped a dull veil of care. Her eyes shifted uneasily. Miss Smith tried not to notice the change.
“Well, are you all moved, Aunt Rachel?” she inquired cheerfully.
“No’m, and we ain’t gwine to move.”
“But I thought it was all arranged.”
“It was,” gloomily, “but de ole Cunnel, he won’t let us go.”
The listener was instantly sympathetic. “Why not?” she asked.