t in her grave yit.
An' Pompey, righteously speakin', ought to pacified her befo' he set
out to marry ag'in. Heap o' 'omans would 'a' been afeerd to marry a man
wid a unsunk grave on his hands--'feerd she'd ha'nt her. But I done had
'spe'unce, an' I'm mo' 'feerd o' live ha'nts 'n I is o' dead ones. I
know Sis' Sophy-Sophia she's _layin' dar_--an' she _can't git out_. You
know, she died o' de exclammatory rheumatism, an' some say hit was a
jedgmint f'om heaven. You know, Sis' Sophy-Sophia she was a devil for
fun. She would have her joke. An' some say Gord A'mighty punished her
an' turned eve'y bone in 'er body into funny-bones, jes to show her dat
eve'y funny thing ain't to be laughed at. An' ef you ever got a sudden
whack on de funny-bone in yo' elbow, missy, you know how she suffered
when she was teched. An' she ain't at rest yit. She done proved dat. Of
co'se, ef she died wid some'h'n' on 'er mind, we can't do nothin' for
her; but ef she jes need soothin', I'll git her quieted down."

She leaned forward and resumed her washing--that is to say, she raised a
garment from the suds and looked at it, turned it over idly in her hands
several times, and dipped it languidly.

Her visitor watched her in amused silence for a while.

"And how are you going to soothe her, Tamar?" she asked, presently.
"Tell me all about it."

At this the woman began wiping her hands upon her apron, and dropping
into a seat between two of the tubs and resting her arms upon their
rims, she faced her mistress.

"Of co'se, honey," she began, "de fust thing is to _wear mo'nin_'--an'
dat ain't no special trouble to me--I got consider'ble black frocks
lef' over from my widderhoods. An' in addition to dat, I gwine carry it
around in my countenance--an' _ef she sees it_--an' I b'lieve de dead
does see--_maybe it'll ease her mind_. Of co'se, when a pusson ain't
able to sorrer in her heart, dey 'bleeged to wear it in dey face--"

There was something in her voice as she said these last words--an
indescribable note that seemed to express detachment from all feeling in
the matter--that made her listener turn and look narrowly into her face.
Still, she was not in the least prepared for the hearty laughter that
greeted her question.

"And don't you mourn for her in your heart, Tamar?" She eyed her
narrowly as she put the question.

The black woman did not even attempt an answer. Nor did she apparently
even try to control her mirth. But, after a while, w