"Hi! what I tell you? Oh, Marse Ishmael, chile, don't go for to 'ny your old Aunt Katie, as nussed you good when you lay out dere for dead at Tanglewood! don't!" said the poor creature, clinging to his coat. "Katie!" reiterated Ishmael, unable to utter another word. "Laws a massy upon top of me, yes! I keep on telling you, chile, I is Katie! don't 'ny me; don't 'ny me in my 'stress, Marse Ishmael, if ebber you 'spects to see hebben!" she said, beginning to cry. "I do not deny you, Katie; but I am lost in amazement. How on earth came you here?" asked Ishmael, staring at her. "I didn't come on earth at all. I come by de sea. Oh, Marse Ishmael! I done died since I lef' you! done died and gone to the debbil! been clar down dar in his place, which it aint 'spectable to name! done died and gone dere and come to life again, on a ship at sea." "Who brought you here, Katie?" questioned Ishmael, thoroughly perplexed. "De debbil, honey! de debbil, chile! Sure as you lib it was de debbil! Oh, Marse Ishmael, honey, stop long o' me! Don't go leabe me, chile, don't! Now de Lor' has sent you to me, don't go leabe me. You is all de hopes I has in de world!" she cried, clinging with desperate perseverance to his coat. "I will not leave you, Katie. I have not the least intention of doing so. But all this is quite incomprehensible. Where is your mistress? She is never here?" said Ishmael. "I dunno. I dunno nuffin 'bout my poor dear babyship--ladyship, I mean; only my head is so 'fused! Oh, lor', don't go break away from me! don't, Marse Ishmael!" "I will not desert you, Katie, be assured that I will not; but let go my coat and try to compose yourself. Don't you see that you are collecting a crowd around us?" expostulated Ishmael. But Katie hung fast, saying: "'Deed I can't! 'Deed I can't, Marse Ishmael! If I let go of you I shall wake up an' find you is all a dream, an' I'll be as bad off as ebber," persisted Katie, taking Ishmael more firmly into custody than ever. He laughed; he could not help laughing at the ludicrous desperation of his captor. But his astonishment and wonder were unabated; and he saw that Katie could not give a lucid explanation of her presence on the island, or at least not until her excitement should have time to subside. Besides the crowd of negroes, mulattoes, and creoles, men, women, and children, who had gathered around them, with open eyes and mouths, was still increasing. "Katie," he said, "we cannot talk in the middle of the street with all these people staring at us. So come with--" "Oh, lor', Marse Ishmael," interrupted Katie, "don't you mind dese poor trash! Dey can't speak one word o' good Christian talk, nor likewise understand a Christian no mor'n dumb brutes. Dey is no better nor barbariums, wid dere o's and ro's ebery odder word. Don't mind dem herrin's." "But, Katie, they have eyes. Come with me to the hotel. You will find your old master there."