bravely for a long time, trying to learn, trying to read the books
recommended to her in her Northern letters, and sent for by Jake to
Palatka, trying to understand what she read, and, most pitiful of all,
trying to be a lady, fashioned after her own ideas, and those of Jake
and Mandy Ann. Jake told her what he had seen the quality do in
Richmond, while Mandy Ann boasted her superior knowledge, because of her
three months with Miss Perkins's in Jacksonville, and rehearsed many
times the way she had seen young ladies "come into de house, shake han's
an' say how d'ye, an' hole' thar kyard cases so" (illustrating with a
bit of block), "an' thar parasols so" (taking up granny's cane), "an'
set on the aidge of thar char straight up, an' Miss Perkins bowin' an'
smilin' an' sayin' how glad she was to see 'em, an' den when dey's gone
sayin' sometimes, 'I wonder what sent 'em hyar to-day, when it's so
powerful hot, an' I wants to take my sester'--dat's her nap, you know,
after dinner, what plenty ladies take--an' den you mus' sometimes speak
sharp like to Jake an' to me, an' not be so soff spoken, as if we wasn't
yer niggers, 'case we are, or I is, an' does a heap o' badness; an' you
orto pull my har f'or it."

Confused and bewildered Eudora listened, first to Jake and then to Mandy
Ann, but as she had no card case, no parasol, and no ladies called upon
her, she could only try to remember the proper thing to do when the time
came, if it ever did. But she lost heart at last. She was deserted.
There was no need for her to try to be a lady. Her life was slipping
away, but for baby there was hope, and many times in her chamber loft,
when Mandy Ann thought she was taking her _sester_, and so far imitating
"de quality," she was praying that when she was dead, as she felt she
soon would be, her little child might be recognized and taken where she
rightfully belonged.