“I ain’t, I ain’t, I ain’t!” she almost shrieked. “I gwine fer stay right wey I is. Take you’ han’ fum off me, man! I bin cry on count dat chile mos’ ’fo’ he own mammy is. I bin nuss um, I bin worry wid um, I bin stay ’wake wid um wun ev’body wuz sleep, un I bin hol’ um in my lap day un night, wun ’e sick un wun ’e well. I ain’t gwine out! I ain’t! I ain’t!” In fine, Mom Bi made a terrible scene, and the officious person who wanted to drive her out was glad to get out himself, which he was compelled to do in order to escape the clamor that he had unwittingly raised. The death and burial of Gabriel Waynecroft was a gloomy episode in Mom Bi’s experience, and it left its marks upon her. She lost none of her old-time vigor, but her temper became almost unbearable. She was surly, irritable and sometimes violent, especially toward the negroes on the place, who regarded her with a superstitious fear that would be difficult to explain or describe. Left to herself she did well enough. She loved to sit in the sun and talk to herself. The other negroes had a theory that she saw spirits and conversed with them; but they were welcome to their theories, so far as Mom Bi was concerned, provided they didn’t pester her. Meanwhile, Sherman’s army was marching through Georgia to Savannah, and in Virginia Grant was arranging the plans of his last campaign. Savannah fell, and then came the information that Sherman’s army was moving on Charleston. The city could be defended in only one direction: all its bristles pointed seaward; and the Confederate troops prepared to evacuate. All these movements were well known to the negroes, especially to Mom Bi, and she made use of her information to renew her prophecies. She stood in the porch of her master’s house and watched the Confederates file by, greeting them occasionally with irritating comment. “Hi! Wey you gwine? Whaffer you no stop fer tell folks good-by? Nummine! Dem Yankee buckra, dee gwine shaky you by de han’. Dee mek you hot fer true. Wey you no stop fer see de nigger come free?” Most of Mom Bi’s prophecies came true. Sherman marched northward, and then came Appomattox. One day, shortly after the surrender, Mom Bi appeared before Judge Waynecroft and his wife rigged out in her best clothes. She was rather more subdued than usual. She entered the room, and then stood still, looking first at one and then at the other. “Well, Bi,” said the Judge, kindly, “what can we do for you?” “Nuttin’ ’t all. I gwine down dey at Sawanny, wey my daughter is bin live.” “Do you mean Maria?” “My daughter ’Ria, w’at you bin sell to John Waynecroft. I gwine down dey wey she live at.” “Why, you are too old to be gadding about,” said the Judge. “Why not stay here where you have a comfortable home?” “I think you are very foolish to even dream of such a thing, Mom Bi. Maria is not able to take care of you.”