"You mean you belong to Miss Dora's grandmother?" Mr. Mason asked, while
Jake looked more disgusted than ever.

Not to know Miss Dory was bad enough, but not to know who he was was
much worse.

"Lor' bless your soul, Mas'r Mason, I don't belong to nobody but myself.
I'se done bawn free, I was. But father belonged to ole Miss Lucy, an'
when my mother died she took keer of me, an' I've lived with her ever
sense, all but two or three times I hired out to some swells in
Virginny, whar I seen high life. They's mighty kine to me, dem folks
was, an' let me learn to read an' write, an' do some figgerin'. I'se
most as good a scholar as Miss Dory, an' I tole her some de big words,
an' what the quality in Virginny does, when she was tryin' so hard to
learn to be a lady. She's dead now, the lam', an' my cuss be on him as
killed her."

"Killed! Didn't she die a natural death?" Mr. Mason asked.

"No, sar. She jest pined an' pined for him, an' got de shakes bad, an'
died this mornin'," Jake replied, "an' ole Miss done gone clar out of
her head. She never was over-bright, an' 'pears like she don't know
nothin' now. 'I leave it to you to do,' she said, an I'm doin' on't the
best I kin. I seen her laid out decent in her best gownd--that's Miss
Dory--an' sent to Palatka for a coffin--a good one, too--an' have been
across the lake for Elder Covil to 'tend the burial, 'case she done
said, 'Send for him; he knows.' But he ain't thar, an' I'se come for
you. It'll be day after to-morrer at one o'clock."

Mr. Mason felt the water rolling down his back in streams as he thought