I'm 'not gwine ter hab folks sayin', Aun' Patsy done got so ole she can't do her own sewin'." "If you are not going to die till you get your quilt finished, Aunt Patsy," said Mrs Null, "I hope it won't be done for a long time." "Don' do to be waitin' too long, Miss.

De fus' thing you know some udder culled pusson'll be dyin' wrop up in a quilt like dis, and git dar fus'." Mrs Null now looked about her with much interest, and asked many questions in regard to the old woman's comfort and ailments.

To these the answers, though on the whole satisfactory, were quite short, Aunt Patsy, apparently, much preferring to look at her visitor than to talk to her.

And a very pretty young woman she was to look at, with a face which had grown brighter and plumper during every day of her country sojourn.
When Mrs Null had gone, promising to send Aunt Patsy something nice to eat, the old woman turned to her great-grand-daughter, and said, "Did anybody come wid her ?" "Nobody comed," said the girl.

"Reckon' she done git herse'f los' some o' dese days." The old woman made no answer, but folding up the maniac coverlid, she handed it to the girl, and told her to put it away.
That night Uncle Isham, by Mrs Null's orders, carried to Aunt Patsy a basket, containing various good things considered suitable for an aged colored woman without teeth.
"Miss Annie sen' dese h'yar ?" asked the old woman, taking the basket and lifting the lid.
"Miss Annie!" exclaimed Uncle Isham.