Dat's ole Miss Lucy."

Going up to the chair, she screamed in the woman's ear, "Wake up, Miss
Lucy. I'se done comed home an' thar's a gemman to see you? Wake up!"

She shook the bundle of shawls vigorously, until the old lady was
thoroughly roused and glared at her with her dark, beady eyes, while she
mumbled, "You hyar, shakin' me so, you limb. You, Mandy Ann! Whar did
you come from?"

"Jacksonville, in course. Whar'd you think? An' hyar's a gemman come to
see you, I tell you. Wake up an' say how d'ye."

"Whar is he?" the old woman asked, beginning to show some interest,
while the stranger arose and coming forward said, "Excuse me, madam. It
is the young lady I wish to see--your daughter."

"She hain't her mother. She's her granny," Mandy Ann chimed in with a
good deal of contempt in her voice, as she nodded to the figure in the
chair, who, with some semblance of what she once was, put out a skinny
hand and said, "I'm very pleased to see you. Call Dory. She'll know what
to do."

This last to Mandy Ann, who flirted away from her and said to the
stranger, "She hain't no sense mostly--some days more, some days
littler, an' to-day she's littler. You wants to see Miss Dory? She's
upstars changin' her gown, 'case she knows you're hyar. I done tole her,
an' her face lit right up like de sun shinin' in de mawnin'. Will you
gim me your caird?"