"'Who told you you was pretty?' I says, settin' my iron down toler'ble hard. "'The man in the house,' she says. 'He seen me when I was goin' along and he tuk holt of my curls and said I was a pretty little gal. Am I pretty, Mammy?' Miss Margaret, hit jes' seemed lak the heart inside of me was turnin' to stone. I knowed that man. He was a nigger-trader! "I tuk Cass by the hand and walked her off to my house 'thout sayin' a word. Then I tuk the scissors and cut off all her curls, and made her put on her old blue cotton instead of her pink calico, and then I says, 'Now you jes' let me hear of you goin' up to the house ag'in when there's any men there and I lay I'll make you pretty!' Then I went and seen Miss Julia and told her I was sick and would she please to excuse me this evenin'. It wa'n't no lie, for ef ever I was sick in my life I was sick then. Then I went back to my house and shet the do' and waited. I knowed it would come. "A little befo' sundown I heared somebody at the do' and Cass started to open it. I ketched her by the arm and I says, 'You go up in the lof'--quick! and don't you come down less 'n I tell you!' Then I opened the do' and sho 'nough there stood old Major De Jarnette and the nigger-trader. Major De Jarnette he says, 'Cely, where's Cass?' "'Master,' I says, 'Cass is up in the lof', sick,--she can't come down, noway.' "He lowed he'd see how sick she was, and then I called up, 'Cass, come here.' "Cass come and stood lookin' at her bare feet and diggin' her toes in between the puncheons, and I declare to goodness, Miss Margaret, I didn't hardly believe it was the child myself. When I cut off her hair I didn't take no great pains, you may be sho', and now she done run her head in the cobwebs in the lof' tell her hair done look mo' lak ash color than black, and what with the old dress and the dirt streaked over her face where she been cryin', she certainly did look mo' lak po' white trash than a decent nigger child. "I reckon the nigger-trader thought so too, for he tuk a good look at her and he says, 'This ain't the one I want. I couldn't sell her to nobody,' Miss Margaret, it jes' seem lak my heart had been standin' still and now it begun to bound. I thought I'd got her off, sho'. But what do you suppose that child done then? She looked up at him sorter sassy like and she says, 'I _am_ the gal you said was pretty, but Mammy done cut off my curls.' Miss Margaret, as skeered as I was, I felt lak takin' that child and shakin' her good! Here she was in the worst peril a gal could ever be in and losin' her onlies' chance of gettin' out because she was afraid a nigger-trader would think she was ugly! I declare to goodness it does jes' look lak women was born fools anyway! Most of 'em would rather resk fallin' into the hands of the devil hisself than to resk a man's thinkin' they ain't pretty!