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"Here is something I thought might be a little treat for you and Ahnt Carolin'." She paused, and then explained remotely, "Sometimes it is hard to get good things at the village market." Peter took the package, vaguely amused at Cissie's patronage of the Hooker's Bend market. It was an attitude instinctively assumed by every girl, white or black, who leaves the village and returns.
Cissie gave Peter a single wide-eyed glance, and then attempted to ignore the bodiless comment. "Here are some cookies, Mr. Siner," began the girl, rather nervously. "I thought you and Ahnt Carolin' " "Yeah, I 'magine dey's fuh me!" jeered the spectral voice. "Might like them," concluded the girl, with a little gasp.
She sat looking at her son, oddly, with a faint amusement in her gross black face, when a careful voice, a very careful voice, sounded in the outer room, gliding up politely on the syllables: "Ahnt Carolin'! oh, Ahnt Carolin', may I enter?" The old woman stirred. "Da''s Cissie, Peter. Go ast her in to de fambly-room."
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