“No, I will leave Sam and Aunt Dilsey for you to look after,” Mrs. May replied significantly, and it was plain to April that she did not wish their story to be repeated throughout the quarters by the two. “I’ll take Dorothea with me and go over to Cora’s. Send one of the boys to tell Jastrow.” April with Aunt Dilsey and Sam in tow disappeared. The carriage was ready almost as soon as Mrs. May and Dorothea, and once on their way the girl ventured to ask something about Aunt Dilsey and her grandson. “She was Mother May’s cook when I was first married,” Mrs. May explained. “Your Aunt Cora, who was married some years later, always lived with her mother till the old lady died, so it was natural that she should inherit all the old house servants. Aunt Dilsey’s children are all dead too, and Sam is her only kin; so you see why she dreads to be separated from him. It is quite unheard of with us to separate families by selling them, and I am quite sure that there is some mistake. I am only going over now to make certain.” Dorothea hoped that this might be the case. This question of slave-owning had puzzled wiser heads than hers, but so far she had seen the best side of the matter. The May servants were fortunate, in that their owners had their interests wholly at heart, indeed Dorothea frequently observed that the child-like negroes took advantage of this indulgence. On the other hand she had heard talk of hard masters who worked their slaves without consideration; those with whom she had been associated condemned this quite frankly, though as a body they felt that they must uphold the practice of slave-owning no matter what its abuses might be. Indeed they were quite sincere in their belief that their people were unfit to take care of themselves and dreaded the future for them in case the Federal Cause should triumph. Now, however, the seriousness of the question was coming very near to Dorothea. Right in the family was the possibility of a cruel separation. Whatever Mrs. Stewart might have done, and whether she had sold her servants or not, it was quite clear to Dorothea’s keen mind that she had the power to do so, and that in itself did not seem right. Mrs. Stewart might be just as thoughtful of those who were dependent upon her as was Aunt Parthenia, but she was sure there must be many throughout the South who would have no such consideration for the unfortunates over whom the law gave them absolute control. As they swept into the drive at Crosslands, Uncle Jastrow turned in his seat and addressed his mistress. “I on’y hopes, Ol’ Miss,” he said, referring to the mud that had accumulated on the running gear of the carriage, “that none of the fambly is gwine to see we-all comin’ into the place lookin’ like this.” Mrs. May laughed. “No one will blame you for the state of the roads, Uncle Jastrow,” she said. But this did not placate the old man.