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I was her maid, an' went wid her jes as Mahs' Robert wants you ter go 'long wid Miss Rob. He ain't gwine to furgit how they did in de ole times when de ladies went visitin' in dere kerridges fur to stay free, four days. Aun' Patsy were pow'ful ole den, but she didn't die soon 'nuf, an' ole Miss Keswick she kunjer her, an' now she can't die at all." "Neber die!" ejaculated Peggy.

You's got to keep youse'f mighty straight, you Peggy, when you gits whar ole Miss Keswick is. Don' you come none ob your fool tricks, or she kunjer you, an' one ob your legs curl up like a pig's tail, an' neber uncurl no moh'. How you like dat?"

"Jes' you take dese h'yar shoes," she said, "an' ef eber you think ole miss gwine ter kunjer you, jes' you hol' up dem shoes right afore her face. Dar now, stuff 'em in your pocket. Don' you tell Miss Annie wot I done say to you. 'Member dat, sah. It ud kill her, shuh." At this moment Mrs Null entered, just as the shoes had been slipped into the side-pocket of Mr Croft's coat by the old woman.

"Well, now, Marse Perkins, you mus'n be onreasonbul. Wat cud we do? We des riskin' de wool on we haids stayin' yere fer comp'ny. Ef de spook come, 'spose he tink we no business yere en des lay we out lak he kunjer yo' dawg? We des tank you, Marse Perkins, fer anoder lil drap ter kep we sperets out'n we shoon," and Jute shuddered portentously.

As Mr Croft dismounted and went into the house, Peggy glowered at him; sundry expressions, sounding very much like odds and ends of imprecations which she had picked up in the course of a short but investigative existence, gurgling from her lips. "I wish dat ole Miss Keswick kunjer him. Ef she knew how Miss Rob hate him, she curl he legs up, an' gib him mis'ry spranglin' down he back."

With the politeness natural to the Southern negro, she opened the gate for the gentleman, but as she closed it behind him, she cast after him a look of earnest malevolence. "Ef dot ole Miss Keswick don' kunjer you, sah," she said in an undertone, "I's gwine to do it myse'f. So, dar!" And she gave her foot a stamp on the ground.

She make you think she like you fus' rate, an' den de nex' thing you knows, she kunjer you, an' shribble up de siners ob your legs, an' gib you mis'ry in your back, wot you neber git rid of no moh'. Can't tell you nuffin' else now, for h'yar comes Miss Annie," she added hurriedly, and, stepping to the bedside, she drew from under the mattrass a pair of little blue shoes, tied together by their strings.