"Well, Aunt Linda, I suppose by this time you know how to read and write?"
"No, chile, sence freedom's com'd I'se bin scratchin' too hard to get a libin' to put my head down to de book."
"But, Aunt Linda, it would be such company when your husband is away, to take a book. Do you never get lonesome?"
"Chile, I ain't got no time ter get lonesome. Ef you had eber so many chickens to feed, an' pigs squealin' fer somethin' ter eat, an' yore ducks an' geese squakin' 'roun' yer, yer wouldn't hab time ter git lonesome."
"But, Aunt Linda, you might be sick for months, and think what a comfort it would be if you could read your Bible."
"Oh, I could hab prayin' and singin'. Dese people is mighty good 'bout prayin' by de sick. Why, Robby, I think it would gib me de hysterics ef I war to try to git book larnin' froo my pore ole head. How long is yer gwine to stay? An' whar is yer stoppin?"
"I got here to-day," said Robert, "but I expect to stay several days."
"Well, I wants yer to meet my ole man, an' talk 'bout ole times. Couldn't yer come an' stop wid me, or isn't my house sniptious 'nuff?"
"Yes, thank you; but there is a young lady in town whom I think is my niece, my sister's daughter, and I want to be with her all I can."
"Your niece! Whar did you git any niece from?"
"Don't you remember," asked Robert, "that my mother had a little daughter, when Mrs. Johnson sold her? Well, I believe this young lady is that daughter's child."
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