In a few moments she was back, carrying a handful of live coals in her naked palm, having first sprinkled a few ashes over it for protection. With these she kindled the fire, which soon made a busy clamor in the hollow throat of the old chimney. Once more she disappeared, returning with a bundle of things in her arms: a big shawl, Virginia’s shoes and stockings, and her homespun dress. “I gwine take dat dar outlandish thing offen yo’, honey,” she announced, seating herself on the pine floor in front of the girl, and beginning to draw off her torn stockings. “I gwine mek yo’ put on yo’ own frawk ’fo’ dey sees yo’ in d’ house. Marse Gawge he ain’ knowin’ nuttin’ ’bout yo’ bein’ out all night. I ’mos’ skeered to deaf ’bout yo’, but I ain’ seh nuttin’ to _naw_body, ’case I didn’t think my honey gwine g’way fur good.” She took the little cold bare feet into her cushiony palms and rubbed them softly. Every now and then she bent down her gayly turbaned head and blew with warm breath upon them after the negro fashion of ministering to any frozen thing, from a bit of bread to a young “squawb.” “Yo’ barf’s all rade-y in de house,” Aunt Tishy continued, as she knelt up and began unfastening the ribbons from the front of the old-time garment the girl had donned in a mood so different. “Gord! honey,” she said, as the pins accumulated in her capacious mouth, “in de name o’ sense what dun persess yo’ tuh put on dis hyah thing? Name o’ Gord! _who_ ever see sich a thing _aney_how?” She held it up with much of the contempt with which Virginia had at first regarded it, tossing it finally into the chip-basket. Virginia said nothing from first to last. She was almost sure that she was dreaming, and would soon awake. “My sakes ’live!” chuckled Aunt Tishy, as she hooked the homespun dress about the girl’s waist, “wouldn’ I ’a’ thanked Gord-amighty ef yo’d ’a’ ben dis good when yo’ wuz leetle, honey? Mk, mh-_mph_!” (This final ejaculation I find impossible to describe with pen and ink.) When she had completely altered her charge’s appearance, replaiting her dishevelled hair, and unwinding from its tangled meshes the little chain of white and red sea-shells, Aunt Tishy took her by the hand and led her across the side lawn to the house. “Now yo’ kin dress comfbul,” she told her, “an’ jess mek’ yo’se’f easy, my lamb. Tishy she ain’ gwine seh nuttin’ tuh _naw_-bode-y.” Virginia tried to smile upon her. Something stiff at the corners of her mouth seemed to prevent her. She turned, lifting one hand to her cheek, and went into the yet quiet house. VI.