I must do ourselves the justice to say that such a thing as converting Mammy into cash, and thus making her divisible, never for a moment entered our minds. It seemed, however, that the difficulty had occurred to her. We all felt so guilty, when Mammy served tea that last evening, that we were sure she read our thoughts in our countenances. It would be nearer the truth to say that it was rather our fears that she should ever come to the knowledge that the word “sale” had been coupled with her name. The next day we were to scatter, and it was imperative that some disposition should be made of Mammy. The old lady--for old we deemed her, though she could scarcely have been fifty--went calmly about the house looking to the packing of the thousand and one things, and not only looking, but using her tongue in language expressing utter contempt for all “lazy niggers” of these degenerate days--referring to the temporary “help.” The eldest sister was deputed to approach and sound Mammy on the momentous question. The deputy went on her mission in fear and trembling. The interview was easily contrived in the adjoining room. We were exceedingly embarrassed when we discovered that Mammy's part of the dialogue was perfectly audible. As for the sister's, her voice could be barely heard. So that the effect to the unwilling eavesdropper was that which we are familiar with in these days of hearing a conversation at the telephone. “Don't you bother yo'self 'bout me, Miss Frances.” Interval. “No, marm. I'd ruther stay right here in dis town whar ev'body knows me. Doan yawl study 'bout me.” Several bars' rest, apparently. “Yes'm, I know hit's yo' duty to look after me, an' I belongs to all of you; but Ise concluded to let yawl off. You can't divide me into five parts, an' they ain' nah one uv you 'titled to any partickler part if you could; most uv me ain't much 'count nohow, what with very coarse veins an' so fothe. Oh, yes'm! I done study 'bout it plenty, an' I done concluded that I'll let yawl off an' do fur myself. You know I'm a prime cake-maker, bread-maker, an' kin do a whole pahcel uv other things besides; an' dress young ladies for parties, whar I learnt at the ole the-etter, which they built it after the fust one burnt up and all dem people whar dey got the Monnymental Chutch over um now; an' any kind of hair-dress-in', curlin' wid irons or quince juice, an' so fothe. No, don't you bother 'bout me.” So Mammy was installed in a small house in a portion of the city occupied by a good many free people, and, as we subsequently ascertained, not bearing a very savory reputation.