So saying he, followed by his daughters, went to the cabin where poor Aunt Polly was sitting, in all the touching simplicity of second childhood, playing with some bits of ribbon, bright-colored calico, and flashy artificial flowers. Looking up with a vacant stare at the group she spoke not, but, slowly shaking her head in an imbecile way, murmured: "These are putty, but yer mustn't take 'em frum me; dese am all dat dis ole nigger hab got, dese here am fadder, mudder, hustbund, an chile. Lit me keep 'em." "You old fool, what's you 'bout, gwine on at this here rate? Don't you know I is yer master, and will beat the very life outen yer, if yer don't git up right at once?" "Now who is yer? Sure now, an' dis old nigger doesn't know yer. Yer is a great big man, dat looks so cross and bad at me. I wish yer would go on 'bout yer own bisness, and be a lettin' me 'lone. I ain't a troublin' of yer, no way." "You ain't, arnt yer, you old fool? but I'll give yer a drap of medicine that'll take the craze outen yer, and make yer know who yer master is. How does you like that, and this, and this?" and, suiting the action to the word, he dealt her blow after blow, in the most ferocious manner. Her shoulders were covered with blood that gushed from the torn flesh. A low howl (it could only be called a howl) burst from her throat, and flinging up her withered hands, she cried, "Oh, good Lord Jesus, come and help thy poor old servant, now in dis her sore time ob trouble." "The Lord Jesus won't hear sich old nigger wretches as you," said Mr. Peterkin. "Oh, yes, de Lord Jesus will. He 'peared to me but a leetle bit ago, and he was all dressed in white, wid a gold crown upon His head, and His face war far and putty like young Masser's, only it seemed to be heap brighter, and he smiled at dis poor old sufferin' nigger; and den 'peared like a low, little voice 'way down to de bottom ob my heart say, Polly, be ob good cheer, de Lord Jesus is comin' to take you home. He no care weder yer skin is white or black. He is gwine fur to make yer happy in de next world. Oh, den me feel so good, me no more care for anything." "All of this is a crazy fancy," said Dr. Mandy, who stepped into the cabin; but taking hold of Polly's wrist, and holding his fingers over her pulse, his countenance changed. "She has excessive fever, and a strong flow of blood to the brain. She cannot live long. Put her instantly to bed, and let me apply leeches." "Do yer charge extry for leeching, doctor?" asked Mr. Peterkin. "Oh, yes, sir, but it is not much consideration, as you are one of my best customers." "I don't want to run any useless expense 'bout the old 'oman. You see she has served my family a good many years." "And you are for that reason much attached to her," interposed the doctor.