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Updated: June 24, 2025
But she never explained it; and it had, in consequence, the charm of mystery, in addition to the advantage of the sharpest expression. 'How long it is before we have any news of Walter, Susan! observed Florence, after a moment's silence. 'Long indeed, Miss Floy! replied her maid.
Floy with her dreamy face and busy sketch-book, Will with his halo of golden hair, his manly figure and broad, open ambitions, Boss with his busy step and fishing-tackle, and baby Ethel, the wee darling, who ran after Ruth the first time she saw her and begged her to come and play with her; ever since, she formed a part of the drapery of Ruth's skirt or a rather cumbersome necklace about her neck.
It was Naomi they sang, he thought, an old-fashioned Methodist air that Floy had caught from the negroes, and used to sing to him sometimes. Every night, down at home, she would come to his parlor-door to say good-night: he thought he could see the little figure now in its white nightgown, and hear the bare feet pattering on the matting.
Florence was stooping down beside her; and no one could have said which Mrs Toots was hugging and fondling most, the mother or the child, or which was the tenderer, Florence of Mrs Toots, or Mrs Toots of her, or both of the baby; it was such a little group of love and agitation. 'And is your Pa very ill, my darling dear Miss Floy? asked Susan. 'He is very, very ill, said Florence.
By little and little he got tired of the bustle of the day, the noise of carriages and carts, and people passing and re-passing; and would fall asleep, or be troubled with a restless, and uneasy sense again the child could hardly tell whether this were in his sleeping or his waking moments of that rushing river. "Why will it never stop, Floy?" he would sometimes ask her.
The train of thought suggested to him to inquire if he had ever seen his mother? for he could not remember whether they had told him, yes or no, the river running very fast, and confusing his mind. 'Floy, did I ever see Mama? 'No, darling, why? 'Did I ever see any kind face, like Mama's, looking at me when I was a baby, Floy?
I may not be a Amazon, Miss Floy, and wouldn't so demean myself by such disfigurement, but anyways I'm not a giver up, I hope. 'Give up! What? cried Florence, with a face of terror. 'Why, nothing, Miss, said Susan. 'Good gracious, nothing!
'Alone? and Walter taking me with him! Ah, what a bright, amazed, enraptured smile was on her face! He should have seen it. 'I am sure you will not speak to Walter if I ask you not, she added tenderly; 'and pray don't, dear. Susan sobbed 'Why not, Miss Floy? 'Because, said Florence, 'I am going to be his wife, to give him up my whole heart, and to live with him and die with him.
'To-morrow morning, Susan? 'Yes, Miss; that's the orders. Early. 'Do you know, asked Florence, without looking at her, 'where Papa is going, Susan? 'Not exactly, Miss. 'Hush, Susan! urged Florence gently. 'Well, Miss Floy, returned Miss Nipper, who was full of burning indignation, and minded her stops even less than usual.
'Oh about Lieutenant Walters, and Captain Gills, and you my dear Miss Floy, and the silent tomb, said Susan. 'The silent tomb! repeated Florence.
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