At first she consulted her father about everything, but his invariable answer, "Just as you say, daughter," transferred all responsibility to her. A letter to her mother's old New Orleans friend, Madame Le Duc, briefly set forth the circumstances, and asked Madame's aid in securing a small house. Other letters sent in other directions arranged various matters, and Evelyn soon found herself in the vortex of a move. She had a wise, clear head and a steady, resolute hand, and in old mammy a most capable servant. The old woman seemed, indeed, to forget nothing, as she bustled about, packing, suggesting, and, spite of herself, frequently protesting; for, if the truth must be spoken, this move to the city was violating all the traditions of mammy's life. "Wh-wh-wh-why, baby! Not teck de grime-stone!" she exclaimed one day, in reply to Evelyn's protest against her packing that ponderous article. "How is we gwine sharpen de spade an' de grubbin'-hoe ter work in the gyard'n?" "We sha'n't have a garden, mammy." "No gyard'n!" Mammy sat down upon the grindstone in disgust. "Wh-wh-wh-what sort o' a fureign no-groun' place is we gwine ter, anyhow, baby? Honey," she continued, in a troubled voice, "co'se you know I ain't got educatiom, an' I ain't claim knowledge; b-b-b-but ain't you better study on it good 'fo' we goes ter dis heah new country? Dee tells me de cidy's a owdacious place. I been heern a heap o' tales, but I 'ain't say nothin' Is yer done prayed over it good, baby?" "Yes, dear. I have prayed that we should do only right. What have you heard, mammy?" "D-d-d-de way folks talks, look like death an' terror is des a-layin' roun' loose in de cidy. Dee tell _me_ dat ef yer des nachelly blows out yer light ter go ter bed, dat dis heah some'h'n' what stan' fur wick, hit 'll des keep a-sizzin' an' a-sizzin' out, des like sperityal steam; _an' hit's clair pizen_!" "That is true, mammy. But, you see, we won't blow it out. We'll know better." "Does yer snuff it out wid snuffers, baby, ur des fling it on de flo' an' tromp yer foots on it?" "Neither, mammy. The gas comes in through pipes built into the houses, and is turned on and off with a valve, somewhat as we let water out of the refrigerator." "Um-hm! Well done! Of co'se! On'y, in place o' water what _put out_ de light, hit's in'ardly filled wid some'h'n' what _favor_ a blaze." "Exactly." Mammy reflected a moment. "But de grime-stone gotter stay berhime, is she? An' is we gwine leave all de gyard'n tools an' implemers ter de 'Onerble Mr. Citified?" "No, mammy; none of the appurtenances of the homestead are mortgaged. We must sell them. We need money, you know." "What is de impertinences o' de homestid, baby? You forgits I ain't on'erstan' book words." "Those things intended for family use, mammy. There are the carriage-horses, the cows, the chickens--" "Bless goodness fur dat! An' who gwine drive 'em inter de cidy fur us, honey?" "Oh, mammy, we must sell them all."