"You done drinked up yer fortune.
Dat's de sign ob early death.

I gwine fix you a good-luck bag; dey say ef you carry it all de time, hit's a cross-sign ag'in' death." "But can't you tell me anything ?" persisted Martha.
"Dey ain't nothin' to tell," repeated Aunt Melvy, "'cep'n' to warn you to carry dat good-luck bag all de time." "Now, mine," said Ruth, with an incredulous but curious smile.
For several moments Aunt Melvy bent over the cup in deep consideration, and then she rose and took it to the window, with fearsome, anxious looks at Ruth meanwhile.

Once or twice she made a sign with her fingers, and frowned anxiously.
"What is it, Aunt Melvy ?" Ruth demanded.

"Am I going to be an old maid ?" "'T ain't no time to joke, chile," whispered Aunt Melvy, all the superstition of her race embodied in her trembling figure.

"What I see, I see.