yer feel as bad as all dat! Poor lil' lily. An' you
was lookin' a rosebud dis mornin'. Dey cer'enly don' know much 'bout
carin' fer my flower up dar." Then, smoothing the girl's hair with her
strong hand, she sang:

"Nobody knows de trouble I's seen,
Nobody knows but Jesus.
Nobody knows de trouble I's seen,
Glory Hallelujah."

The people at the great house were nervous, tiring; but mammy was
restful like the deep, lower waters of a stream. Her mellow voice sang
on:

"I know de Lawd, I know de Lawd,
I know de Lawd has laid his hands on me."

"De Lawd" came out in three long, rolling syllables, descending from the
high call, "I know." Hertha found herself breathing slowly, quietly, her
mother's hand smoothing her forehead and soft, curling hair.

"I was a wandering sheep----"

Mammy had slipped into a hymn that belonged to the church where for many
years she had worshiped, proud in being the wife of the holy man who
occupied the preacher's desk. She had sung all her children to sleep
with this hymn.

"I was a wandering sheep,
I did not love the fold,
I did not love my shepherd's voice,
I would not be controlled.
I was a wayward child----"

Hertha rose from her knees. Quietly going into her mother's room, she
turned down the bed, a task she performed every night for Miss Patty and
her guests.

"Honey," her mother called, "what yer up ter?"

"Nothing," Hertha answered, "only fixing to do something for you and
Ellen, and now I'm going to bed myself."

For a week she never let the thought of the morning's happiness take
possession of her mind. It might press close, but it encountered a wall
of resolution that held it back. She made her way to her work among the
chickens and pigs through the pines to the kitchen door. Miss Patty
liked to have her about, and when the work in the rooms was finished
often called her to her side. She and Miss Witherspoon had taken to
spending a part of their afternoons over a new and elaborate kind of
embroidery, and Hertha was essential to Miss Patty's accomplishment.
Indeed, after Hertha had counted stitches and drawn threads and outlined
the pattern, Miss Patty's part became a last triumphant progress. During
this period of the day, when the women were on the gallery, Lee would
often join them. He and Miss Witherspoon found many things to talk
about, for the Boston woman had a keen interest in this southern youth
w