"Think I didn't see her yesterday?
Whars the red cheeks ?--white about her lips, black about her eyes; jist like Mistis when she was gwine fast, and de young baby on her arm.

Death wants Miss Alice--aint arter me." "Aint you ashamed to talk so about Miss Alice, when she's always coming to you, bringing you something, and trying to do something for you ?" said Phillis.

"You might as well sit here and talk bad of one of the angels above." "Aint talking bad of her," said Aunt Peggy; "aint wishin her no harm.

If there is any angels she's as good as any of 'em; but it's her Death's arter, not me; look here at my arms--stronger than yourn--" and she held out her sinewy, tough arm, grasping her cane, to go in the house.
Phillis saw she was not wanted there, and looking in to be assured that Nancy (Aunt Peggy's grand-daughter, who lived with her to take care of her,) was there, went home and thought to go to bed.

But she found no disposition to sleep within her.