"It's de Lawd's day, chillens," answered the old woman in a doubtful
tone.
"Yes, mammy," acknowledged Rosie, "but you can easily make your story fit
for Sunday; mamma was so good--a real Christian child, as you have often
told me."
"So she was, chile, so she was; I's sho' she lub de Lawd, from de bery
day her ole mammy fus' tole her how He lub her. Yes, you right, Miss
Rosie; I kin tole you 'bout her, and 'twon't break de Sabbath day. Is yo'
all hyar now?" she asked, glancing inquiringly about.
"All but Gracie," said Rosie, glancing round the little circle in her
turn. "I wonder where she is. Betty," to a little negro maid standing in
the rear, "go and find Miss Gracie, and ask if she doesn't want to hear
the stories mammy is going to tell us."
"Yes, Miss Rosie, whar you s'pose Miss Gracie done gone?" drawled the
little maid, standing quite still and pulling at one of the short woolly
braids scattered here and there over her head.
"I don't know. Go and look for her," returned Rosie, somewhat
imperiously. "Now hurry," she added, "or there won't be time for all
mammy has to tell.
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