“Thank yoh, missy, I sho’ will be grateful,” answered Lucy so earnestly that Dorothea looked at her, surprised at her tone. “Do you really believe in luck, Lucy?” Dorothea asked idly, as the girl was brushing her hair. “Does I believes in luck!” exclaimed Lucy. She held up her hands in amazement. “Does I believes in luck? No’m, I don’t believes in it, I knows it! Didn’t I see the new moon over my right shoulder and nex’ day didn’t Ole Miss send me for to take care of yoh?” “I’m not sure that was luck, Lucy,” Dorothea could not help saying. “At any rate, I can’t see what the moon had to do with it.” “The moon’s got a lot to do with luck, baby!” Lucy insisted. “Yoh kills a hog when the moon’s dwindlin’ and the meat’s gwine to dwine away to ’mos’ nothin’ when yoh puts it in the pot. Now nobody won’t say a rabbit’s foot off ’en a rabbit what was shot runnin’ ’cross a man’s grave of a Friday in the dark of the moon ain’t boun’ to be lucky. ’Cept ’tis foh that one thing, Friday’s a mighty unlucky day. You don’t want to start nothin’ on a Friday, honey.” “I’ll try to remember,” said Dorothea, much amused, but keeping a sober face. “What else mustn’t I do, Lucy?” “Well, missy, thehe’s lots o’ things it ain’t ’zackly good to do,” the girl, launched on a favorite subject, went on, brushing vigorously the while. “Yoh mustn’t get out of the wrong side of the baid in the mornin’. An’ if yoh puts on a stockin’ wrong side out yoh mus’ wear it awhile befoh yoh change it—but then, you’he boun’ to change it befoh eleven o’clock, less ’en yoh wants somethin’ bad to happen.” “If that’s all, I’ll try to remember,” Dorothea answered lightly. “Land sakes! Is that all, says you?” Lucy cried. “No’m, they’s heaps and heaps more, but I’ll tell ’em to yoh as they comes along. Yoh sho’ly would forget some of ’em if I told all of ’em to oncet.” Her hair finished, Dorothea held out a foot for a satin slipper. “Lef’ foot first, missy,” Lucy said pleadingly. “It’s luckier that a way somehow.” So it went on till Dorothea was dressed, but she was in no hurry to go down till the music told her the dancing had begun, and seated herself near the candle. Taking up a book, she accidentally brushed the paper knife off the table. “That means a gem’man’ comin’ to see yoh,” Lucy remarked as she picked it up. “We’ll not bother over him till he’s here,” Dorothea replied with a laugh. “You needn’t wait, Lucy. I’ll not need you again.” “I’ll be on the landin’, missy, to shake out youh ruffles an’ spread youh ribbons befoh yoh go down staihs. But they’s somethin’ on my mind, honey, I wants to ask yoh about.” “What is it?” Dorothea asked. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, do you?” “I isn’t ’zackly afeared,” Lucy explained. “I knows I ain’t stylish, lak Merry, but I’ve been a house gal wearin’ shoes fouh years now.” She interrupted herself, a new thought striking her.