282 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 



folkes, Iwncy !' She di'appcd her bref en spoke'n a 

 wiiisper 'et farly made my blood run cold. ' Dat's w'at 

 dey is, chile — ole folkses w'ats dead'n gone, en done 

 come back to sit in dar ole corner by de kitchen hearth. 

 Dey hadn't otter be harmed, cu woe's dem w'at kills 

 'em.' Dat's jes w'at she said, en I 'member hit es 

 though it happened yestahday." 



Dan slowly raised himself, took a deep, long pull at 

 his pipe, then closing his eyes, again resumed in a low, 

 solemn tone: "Dat — bery winter^ — in;/ mamm;/ died! 

 an' to make t'ings wus-'n-wus, de ncx' summer ole 

 Mars sot all his niggers free, 'en we uns uz moved up 

 hyar inter Pennsylvany. Hit alius 'peared to me, ahter 

 dat, ez dough I wuz 'sponsible somehow fer po' 

 mammy's def, en fer hevin' to leave ole Mary Ian', too. 

 I's been back dar sence, but my ole 'oman she wouldn't 

 sta}- ; but dar's no kentry like a-dat. Dat's w'y I says, 

 Sary Ann, et I knows a heap al)oot crickets. An' I 

 does, I kin tell ye !" 



Sarah was silenced. She was so keenly sensitive to 

 the class of emotions that Dan's tale Avas calculated to 

 stir up, that she sat down upon the stoop quite sub- 

 dued. Hugh Bond, however, was not mucli given to 

 superstition. He had, indeed, imbibed some of the 

 notions current among his class, but held them in a 

 very superficial Avay, more as an indifferent habit of 

 thought than with any sincerity of faith. Dan's story, 

 therefore, made no serious impression upon him. In- 

 deed he was rather amused by the manner of his old 

 companion, and the eflect of his tale upon Sarah, 



