Silently she made her way by the side of the hill to the long cabin called the “Nursery,” where Maumer, weazen and bent, and long emeritus as to field duties, tended the twenty little wooden cradles. Maumer was sitting on the doorstep holding one of her little charges. “My Cindy’s Paul got dat thrash ergin mighty bad. Calamus, catnip, and groun’-ivy hain’t no good fur hit sometimes,” said Maumer, as Cely drew nearer. “I tole Cindy dat, but she des want ’em, ’case Ole Miss gib ’em ter Little Miss when she er baby. Cindy want Paul lack whi’ chillen, but Ole Miss don’ tek no notice uv ’im, when she see yo’ baby, Cely,” said Maumer, with a frown. “Allus sayin’ what er fine chile he am, an’ nebber gib Cindy’s chile nuffin but er blue chany mug.” Cely was not listening; swiftly she glided by nineteen of the little cradles, and lifted, with many soft tones and caresses, a tiny brown and blue bundle from the twentieth, for Cely’s was the very newest baby in the Nursery. “Mammy little pickaninny! Mammy putty nigger!” cooed Cely, tossing up the little bundle. [Illustration: “HER HEART WAS NOT IN HER WORK”] Maumer still mumbled on the doorstep. “You looks lack er Mammy!—an’ hain’t got yo’ coat ter yo’ ankles yit! Er settled man lack Henry in mighty po’ business takin’ er chile lack yo’ is. Yo’s er nice Mammy!” But Cely was used to Maumer’s moods, for she had been cross ever since Henry married Cely instead of Cindy, Maumer’s stupid daughter, and had grumbled continuously from the day the little new baby was put under her charge. “Wake up! wake up! hit yo’ Mammy, boy!” and the girl lifted the tiny lids with her long slender fingers, but the baby only pressed his lips lazily against the mother’s breast. “What de matter wid him, Maumer? He hain’t eben hongry! He allus wake up an’ play wid me!” “Hush, yo’ fool; yo’ wake ’em all up! Hain’t nuffin de matter wid him. He been yellin’ er hour, an’ dey hatter sleep some time.” The other mothers were now coming in; for they had regular times to go to the Nursery, especially those with very young infants. “Hi, Judy!” said Maumer to a comfortable, rather elderly mother, who had just taken her latest born, her fifteenth, from the cradle, “Cely think dar sumpen de matter wid her baby, and ready ter ’cuse me wid hit, ’case hit want ter go ter sleep. Think she got one er dem jumpin’ dolls lack Little Miss. Her an’ Henry keep hit wake all night er playin’ wid hit, an’ hit gotter sleep some. Here, gimme dat chile, gal! Yo’ dun’no’ nuffin ’bout babies!” There was a general laugh at Cely’s expense. “Nuffin de matter wid de chile!” and Maumer tossed and tickled him until he crowed. But Cely looked at Maumer distrustfully. “_Yo_’ sho’ dar hain’t nuffin de matter wid my baby, Judy?” Cely asked, wistfully, as she put her forefinger into the brown, waxen fist that belonged to the tiny bundle Maumer held.