“That’s because you don’t know how she used to be,” Harriot replied. “Before, she used to laugh all the time and—oh, I don’t know, but she wasn’t so dreadfully grown-up and we had lots of fun together. Now she acts just like she loved going to Mothers’ Meetings and sewing and all that kind of thing. You wouldn’t understand, ’cause you didn’t know her before, but I tell you she’s mighty changed.” As if she had exhausted the topic of conversation Harriot snuggled down further under the covers and the first thing Dorothea knew her young cousin was fast asleep. Soon Dorothea herself drifted off into another nap, to be aroused a little later by hearing a soft puffing sound and a low-voiced humming in the room. She lifted her head and there, before the fire, blowing it gently, was Lucy, her maid, singing softly to herself. “Mary and Marthy feed ma lambs, Feed ma lambs, feed ma lambs. Mary and Marthy feed ma lambs, Sittin’ on the golden stair.” The verse finished, the colored girl turned her head and met Dorothea’s glance, whereupon she smiled broadly and getting to her feet came to the side of the bed. Dorothea’s sleepy eyes opened wide as she caught sight of a band of cheap red ribbon tying back Lucy’s frizzy hair. “Does my little missy want I shall bring her she’s breakfus’ in baid?” the smiling maid asked. “I’ve been wrastlin’ with that pesky fire, tryin’ to kindle it without wakin’ you-all, but I ’spects that wood done come from a tree what was lightnin’ struck, it ac’ so contrary.” “Don’t wake Miss Harriot,” Dorothea cautioned in a whisper. “Nothin’ don’t wake Miss Harry till she’s ready to be woked,” Lucy assured her. “Her old mammy always done said she was the sleepin’est and the eatin’est baby she ever set her two eyes on—and Miss Harry ain’t outgrow it none.” “But hadn’t I better go down to breakfast with my aunt?” Dorothea asked. “Land sakes, honey,” Lucy replied with a wide grin. “Ol’ Miss had she’s breakfus’ hours and hours ago. She don’t spressify what you must do. But ev’ybody pleases they’ se’f heah, and that please Ol’ Miss.” And then Harriot suddenly woke up. To Dorothea’s mind she did this, not like a person rousing from a deep sleep, but rather like a wax doll whose eyes come open with a snap and who is suddenly wide awake. Something of this she expressed to Harriot, who seemed rather annoyed thereby. “I don’t see anything in that to make a fuss about,” she said, with a pout. “When I’m done sleeping, I’m done, and so I stop. When you’ve done eating no one expects you to go on chewing for an hour, do they? Now I want breakfast right away. We’ve lots to do this morning.” Lucy was at once dispatched for plenty of food for two, and then Dorothea inquired what was the pressing business a-foot.