"You all ain' gwine away a step till you eat a snack," she insisted. "I
got a chicken in dyar I done kilt to take to church to-morrow. Ain't I
glad it's ready for my baby child! And I'll mix some hoecakes and bake
some sweet taters and gi' you a pitcher o' cool sweet milk. My precious
baby, you set right dyar in de do'. I can't take my eyes off you any
more'n if dee was glued to you."
A table was set under the great oak and Charity, beaming with joy,
waited on her guests. "Richard ain't gwi' forgive hisself for goin' to
mill to-day," she said. "Dunno huccome he went, anyway. He could 'a' put
it off till Monday. But if you gwi' be at de old place till Chewsday, me
an' him will sho hobble up to see you."
As the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, Miss Dorcas and Anne started
on their homeward journey. Miss Dorcas clucked and jerked the lines, and
Firefly ambled homeward, now jog-trotting along the road, now pausing to
nibble grass on the wayside.
CHAPTER XXIV
All too soon for Anne, came the day that was to take her to the city.
Generous Mrs. Collins insisted on slipping into Miss Dorcas's trunk a
liberal supply of Lizzie's clothes, and she gave Anne one of Lizzie's
best frocks to travel in and a muslin hat that flopped over her face.
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