"Dat? Dat's a song I done heard an ol' man singin', one day. He had some melons to sell, out on de corner by my mudder's house, an' he kep' a singin' it ober an' ober. Ah, dat's a fine one!" she added contentedly, as the rich red heart of the melon appeared. She paused for a moment, then she cocked her head on one side, as she gazed rapturously at the great piece which Charlie offered her. "You all know how me an' my brudder use' to eat our melons, when mammy wan' roun' to smack us?" she inquired suddenly. "How'd you do it?" asked Charlie, laughing. "Dis way. See?" And clutching the piece in both hands, she buried her face in it, and began to devour it, much as a squirrel gnaws the meat out of a walnut. So absorbed was she in her enjoyment of her feast, that she did not hear the door open and Mrs. Pennypoker come into the kitchen. "Jane!" said the strong voice. Janey started at the sound, and choked on a seed. "Yes, mis'," she responded as soon as she could speak, while she raised her head from the rind. "What are you doing?" demanded Mrs. Pennypoker sternly. Her manner was not encouraging. There was a defiant flash in Janey's eyes, as she said sullenly,-- "Ol' mis' done got eyes. What she s'pose I's doin'?" "But I told you to get the lunch." "I was goin' to, in a minute; but Mars' Charlie done wanted me to cut his melon, an' I thought 'twouldn't make no difference." "You are not here to think; you are here to do the work," said Mrs. Pennypoker magisterially. "If I tell you to do something, you must do it." At the last words, Janey drew herself up to her full height and glared at Mrs. Pennypoker. Something in the unconscious dignity of her figure, as she stood there, seemed to dwarf her temporary mistress into insignificance. "You cyarn' say mus' to me," she said in a slow, repressed tone. "Dese ain' no slave days, an ol' mis' cyarn' make 'em so. I ain' no heathen an' I ain' no slave. My mammy bought herself an' her husban', an' we's all freeborn." She had moved forward a step or two, and thrown out her hand, while her eyes gleamed with an angry luster. Suddenly she controlled herself. "I sha'n' say no mo'," she went on slowly; "'cause I might forget myself an' be sassy, an' I don' wan' to do dat. But ol' mis' better not interfere with me, an' say mus', or I'll pack my trunk an' not come back till Mrs. Burnam comes home. She buys my time, an' while I'm yere I belongs to her; but she don' bully me. _She's_ a lady like what we use' ter have down Souf, befo' de war; not like you Yankees." Into her final sentence Janey had compressed all the scorn of which she was capable. For a moment longer, she stood facing Mrs. Pennypoker; then, turning on her heel, she left the room. Mrs. Pennypoker was the first one of the group to come to her senses. "That girl shall leave the house to-night," she exclaimed angrily. "I won't have her here an hour longer." "You aren't going to send Janey off!" demanded Allie indignantly.