“When was she took? Who tol’ yuh? Are yuh lyin’? Ef yuh’re lyin’ I’ll curse yuh with such curses yuh won’ be able to be still when yuh’re dead. But yuh wouldn’ lie tuh me, would yuh, mammy? You wouldn’ lie to me to send me tuh hell in th’ spirit ’fo’ I was called there fur good. Yuh hear me? Why didn’ yuh tell me befo’? Who’s with her? Who’s nursin’ her? Put up my clo’es. I’m goin’--I’m goin’ right now. God! Air yuh a-tryin’ to hold me? Ha! ha! That’s good--that cert’n’y is good. I’ll make father larf at that when--when I come back. Why, you pore old thing, I could throw you outer that winder ef I tried. Well, don’t cry. What a’ you cryin’ fur? God! God! God! have mercy on me!” She fell upon her knees, wringing her hands and throwing backward her agonized face, as though with her uplooking, straining eyes she would pierce the very floor of heaven and behold that mercy for which she pleaded. Then she leaped again to her feet. All at once a calmness fell upon her. She resumed the old dull listlessness of some days past as though it had been a garment. “I’m goin’ to Mis’ Erroll’s,” she said, quietly. “I wan’ some clo’es. Send ’em; I ain’t er-goin’ tuh wait. Tell father.” Virginia, arrived at Windemere, went down the basement steps into the kitchen. The cook, a young mulatto woman named Lorinda, came forward to meet her on cautious, brown-yarn toes. “Miss Mary’s a-dyin’,” she announced, in a sepulchral whisper. “De doctor seh ez how she kyarn’ live nohow. She’s jess ez rade ez a tomarker fum hade tuh foots. An’ she’s jess pintly ’stracted. Yuh never heah sich screechin’ an’ tuh-doin’ in all yuh life.” “Kin I see Mis’ Erroll?” Virginia said, shortly. She sat down on an upturned half-barrel near the door, and leaned with her forehead in her locked palms. Lorinda, rebuffed but obliging, went to see. Virginia was not surprised when she returned shortly, followed by Mrs. Erroll herself. Her heart would never quicken its beat again for anything this side of torment, she thought. Poor, erring, repentant, suffering little savage, what are you enduring now if it be not torment? Mrs. Erroll, nervous and hysterical, took the girl’s hands in hers, and scarcely knowing what she did, bent forward and kissed her cheek. Virginia started back with a harsh cry, which was born and died in her throat. “Poor child!” Mrs. Erroll said, humbly. “I beg your pardon. But if you feared contagion you ought not to have come here.” “’Tain’t that--’tain’t that,” said Virginia. “Don’ min’ me; I’m queer like sometimes. I didn’ mean nuthin’. Ev’ybordy in this neighborhood ’ll tell yo’ I’m a good nurse. I’ve come to he’p yo’. I’ve come to take kyar of her. I’ve come to _make_ her live!” She lifted one arm with a gesture of command almost threatening. The next moment it dropped heavily to her side. The old dull look crept like a shadow over the momentary animation of her face. “They’ll tell yo’ I’m a good nurse,” she said, in her slow monotone.