y-Sophia. She
didn't have no kinfolks to go in mo'nin' for her, an' time Pompey an' me
got ingaged he made known his wushes to me, an' I promised him I'd put
on mo'nin' for her soon as I married into de family. Co'se I couldn't do
it 'fo' I was kin to her."

[Illustration: "'I PROMISED HIM I'D PUT ON MO'NIN' FOR HER, SOON AS
I MARRIED INTO DE FAMILY.'"]

"Kin to her!" the mistress laughed. "Why, Tamar, what relation on earth
are you to Pompey's former wife, I'd like to know?"

The black woman dropped the garment she was wringing and thought a
moment.

"Well, missy," she said, presently, "looks to me like I'm a speritu'l
foster-sister to her, ef I ain't no mo'--an' I done inherited all her
rights an' privileges, so Pompey say--an' ef I 'ain't got a right to
mo'n for her, _who is_? Dey tell me a 'oman is got a right to go in
mo'nin' for her husband's kin anyway; but of co'se, come down to it,
she warn't no blood-kin to Pompey, nohow. Howsomever, eve'ybody knows a
widder or a widderer is intitled to wear _all de mo'nin' dey is_; an'
his wife, why, she's intitled to a equal sheer in it, if she choose to
seize her rights. I'd 'a' put it on befo' de weddin', 'cep'n I didn't
have no title to it, an' it wouldn't 'a' been no comfort to her noways.
Set down, missy." She began wiping off one of her wash-benches with her
apron as she spoke. "Set down, mistus, an' lemme talk to you."

The situation was interesting, and the mistress sat down.

"You see, missy"--she had come nearer now, and assumed a confidential
tone--"you see, Sister Sophy-Sophia she 'ain't nuver found rest yit, an'
dat frets Pompey. Hit troubles 'im in de sperit--an' I promised him to
try to pacify her."

"Pacify her! Why, Tamar! How can you pacify a person who is dead? And
how do you know that her spirit isn't at rest?"

The black woman turned and looked behind her to make sure that no one
should overhear. Then, lowering her voice, she whispered:

"Her grave 'ain't nuver settled yit, mistus. She been buried ever sence
befo' Christmus, an' hit ain't evened down yit. An' dat's a shore sign
of a onrestless sperit--yas, 'm."

Her face had grown suddenly anxious as she spoke. And presently she
added:

"Of co'se, when a grave settles _too_ quick, dat's a sign dey'll soon
be another death, an' nobody don't crave to see a grave sink too
sudden. But it'll ease down gradual--ef de dead sleeps easy--yas, 'm.
No, Sister Sophy-Sophia she 'ain't took no comfor