“Wellum, dat uz ’bout de upshot un it. De Northron lady wuz name Miss Wilbur, er Willard, I disremember which, but she was a mighty nice white gal. Marse Bolivar an’ Hamp wuz bofe at de train ter meet ’er, an’ Marse Bolivar fotch ’er right ter de house, an’ show’d ’er in de parlor. Atter while, Mary Ellen went in dar, an’ ’twuz a mighty meetin’ ’twix um. Dey chattered same ez a flock er blackbirds on a windy day; an’ atter so long a time Marse Bolivar went in dar. ’Twa’n’t long ’fo’ he got ter tellin’ tales, an’ de Northron lady laugh so she kin hardly set on de cheer. Den he open de pianner, an’ ax de white lady ter play, but she vow she can’t play atter he been hearin’ Mary Ellen. Den he say, ‘Won’t you play me a chune, Mary Ellen? Sump’n ol’ timey?’ “Dat gal went ter de pianner, ma’am, an’ sot dar wid her han’s over her face like she prayin’, an’ den she laid her han’s on de keys an’ started a chune des like yo’ hear in yo’ dreams. It got a little louder, an’ den present’y you could hear ’er singin’. I never did know whar’bouts her voice slipped inter dat chune; but dar ’twuz, an’ it fit in wid de pianner des like a flute does. “Wellum, it tuck me back, way back dar in de ol’ days, an’ den brung me down ter later times, fer many a moonlight night did I hear Miss Sally an’ Mary Ellen sing dat song when dey wuz chillun. Den atter dat de Northron lady plump herse’f down at de pianner, an’ she sho did shake dat ol’ shebang up. ’Twuz dish yer highfalutin’ music what sprung up sence de war, an’ it sho sound like war ter me, drums a-rattlin’, guns a-shootin’, an’ forty-levm brass horns all tootin’ a diffunt chune. “When train-time come, ma’am, de Northron lady ax Mary Ellen ef she won’t go ter de train wid ’er. But Marse Bolivar spoke up an’ say dat Mary Ellen been feelin’ bad all de mornin’, an’ she hatter skuzen ’er. He went wid de lady hisse’f, an’ when he come back Mary Ellen tol’ ’im she never would fergit what he done fer her dat day, an’ say she gwine ter pay ’im back some day. “What did the neighbors say about it?” the lady of the house asked, in her practical way. “Dat what pestered me all de time, ma’am,” Aunt Minervy Ann replied. “I ax Marse Bolivar, ‘What de folks gwine ter say when dey hear ’bout dis come off?’ He stuck his thum’s in de armholes er his wescut, an’ ’low, ‘Dat what I wanter know, an’ I wanter know so bad, Minervy Ann, dat ef you hear anybody talkin’ loose talk ’bout it, des come runnin’ ter me while it’s hot. Now don’t you fail.’ “But Marse Bolivar ain’t wait fer me ter hear what folks say. He went polin’ up town de nex’ day, an’ tol’ ’bout it in eve’y sto’ on de street, an’ de las’ man in town vow’d ’twuz de ve’y thing ter do. An’ dat ain’t all, ma’am! De folks dar raise a lot er money fer Mary Ellen, an’ de way dat chile went on when Marse Bolivar put it in ’er han’ an’ tol’ er whar it come fum wuz pitiful ter see.