The mellow sunlight of the warm September afternoon filtered down like gold, through the trees arching overhead.
"'Oh, the sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home,'" sang Lloyd, softly, leaning out of the carriage to wave her hand to Mom Beck, who, in whitest of aprons and gayest of head bandanas, stood smiling and curtseying on the steps.

The good old black face beamed with happiness as she cried, "Heah comes my baby, an' li'l' Miss Betty, too, bless her soul an' body!" Around the house came May Lily and a tribe of little pickaninnies, who fell back at sight of Hero leaping out of the carriage.

He was the largest dog they had ever seen.

Lloyd called them all around her and made them each shake hands with the astonished St.Bernard, who did not seem to relish this part of his introduction to Kentucky.
"He'll soon get used to you," said the Little Colonel.

"May Lily, you run tell Aunt Cindy to give you a cooky or a piece of chicken for him to eat.
Henry Clay, you bring a pan of watah.