't. That was ole Miss Thomas, who stood out
agin Miss Dory till she seen de ring. She says to me, says she, 'Does
you know whar de chile's fader is?' an' says I, 'S'posin' I do?' 'Then
sen' for him,' says she. 'Tain't fittin' de chile to stay on hyar.' 'I'm
gwine to sen',' says I, an' I did, an' you've done come. Is you gwine to
take her?"

Jake's broad chest heaved as he asked this question, to which the
Colonel replied, "That is what I came for."

Jake had assumed that he was the child's father, and he did not
contradict him, but said, "You call her the child. Has she no name?"

"Yes, Dory; dat's what her mother called her, but to me dar's only one
Dory, an' she's dead, an' 'twas handy to say de _lill chile_ or _honey_.
Is you gwine to take her right away?"

"Yes, when the 'Hatty' goes back," the Colonel replied, with a feeling
of pity for the negro, whose face was quivering, and whose voice shook
as he said, "It's best, I s'pose, but 'twill be mighty lonesome hyar,
with the chile gone from de 'shady' whar she plays, an' from de cradle
whar I rocks her, an' from dese arms what totes her many a time, when
she goes through de clarin' in de woods. You wouldn't be wantin' me an
Mandy Ann to go wid you? De chile is wonderfully 'tached to us, an' has
some spells only we can manage."

The Colonel shook his head. Jake and Mandy Ann knew too much for him to
take them North. The child would soon forget its surroundings. People
would stop wondering after a while, and the past would be bridged over,
as far as was possible. On the whole the future looked brighter than it
had done for years, and on this account the Colonel could afford to be
very suave and gentle with this poor negro.

"No, Jake," he said, very kindly. "You would not be happy at the North,
it is so different from the South. I cannot take you, nor Mandy Ann, but
I shall reward you for all you have done for the child, and for her
mother."

The last words came slowly, and there was a kind of tremor in the
Colonel's voice.

"I 'specs you are right," Jake said meekly; "but it'll be mighty hard,
an' what's gwine to become of Mandy Ann? Who does she 'long to, now Miss
Dory an' ole Miss is both dead? I 'longs to myself, but what of Mandy
Ann?"

Here was a problem the Colonel had not thought of. But his mind worked
rapidly and clearly, and he soon reached a decision, but before he could
speak of it the child appeared. It had taken a long time to wash and
dress h