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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Awful big and shaggy," quavered Roxy, clinging to Tilly, while Rhody hid in Prue's skirts, and piped out: "His great paws kept clawing at us, and I was so scared my legs would hardly go." "We ran away as fast as we could go, and he come growling after us. He's awful hungry, and he'll eat every one of us if he gets in," continued Sol, looking about him for a safe retreat.
"I didn't wake once," answered the boy, kissing her wrinkled cheek. "Then you must eat a good breakfast and go to your grandfather in the library. Your grandfather is a very learned man, Dan, he reads Latin every morning in the library. Cupid, has Rhody a freshly broiled chicken for your young master?"
I'd been wiping and screwing the glass, and I'd waited a breath, for mother always talked so like a preacher; but when she'd finished, after a second or two Dan looked up, and said, as if he'd just come in "Aunt Rhody! how come you out of bed?"
The boy worked industriously through the deepening dawn, giving an occasional "gee up, Rhody!" to the mare, and following the track of the harrow with much the same concentration of purpose as that displayed by his four-footed friend.
Ambler's presence fell heavily upon her face and she choked back a rising sob. What would the end be? she asked herself in sudden anguish, or was this the end? Reaching Chericoke she found Mrs. Lightfoot and Aunt Rhody drying sliced sweet potatoes on boards along the garden fence, where the sunflowers and hollyhocks flaunted in the face of want.
And now she lay on the bed, one hand under her cheek, the other picking restlessly at the blanket, for consciousness was fluttering back. "Give me the brandy, Aunt Rhody," said Doctor Parker, softly. He poured a few drops into the spoon she brought, and held it to Mary's lips.
"I gave your Christmas gift to Uncle Cupid, Aunt Rhody," she said; "he put it under the joists in your cabin, so you mustn't look at it till morning." "Lawd, chile, I'se done got Christmas gifts afo' now," replied Aunt Rhody, ungratefully, "en I'se done got a pa'cel er no count ones, too.
Tell it," commanded Roxy, from the cradle, where she was drowsily cuddled with Rhody. "Well, a long time ago, when Charles the First was in prison, Lord Bassett was a true friend to him," began Eph, plunging into his story without delay.
"Isn't there a single chicken left?" hopelessly persisted the old lady. "Who gwine lef' 'em? Ain' dose low-lifeted sodgers dat rid by yestiddy done stole de las' one un 'um off de nes'?" Mrs. Lightfoot sternly remonstrated. "They were our own soldiers, Rhody, and they don't steal they merely take." "I don' see de diffunce," sniffed Aunt Rhody.
Only for one moment that recognizing look defied death and welcomed life; her arms dropped, her jaw fell; it was over. "I guess you'd better take the baby into the kitchen, Miss Loviny," said Aunt Rhody; "'tisn't considered lucky to keep 'em round where folks has died."
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