- fane upon occasions—but when Aunt Keturah, his
old nurse and housekeeper, came to him the next minute to ask something about the proposed festivity, his answer was,
"Go to the devil!"
Aunt Keturah was naturally offended at this.
"I didn't never think my mistis' son gwin' talk dat discontemptuous way to de mammy dat nuss him and Miss 'Lizbeth, and Marse Miles, an' lay yo' par out, and your mar, an' set by Miss 'Lizbeth an' hole her han' 'twell de bref lef' her body—" For your true African never omits to mention any family tragedy or sorrow or other lugubrious proceedings in which he or she may have had a part.
"Well, old lady, I didn't exactly mean what I said—"
"Well, den, you hadn't orter said nuttin' like it—"
"I know it. If you were to go to the devil, I don't know what would become of me."
"Dat's so, honey. An' ain't no wife gwi' do fur you like yo' po' ole mammy"—for the possibility of Pembroke's marriage was extremely distasteful to Keturah, as portending her downfall and surrender of the keys.
Colonel Berkeley had often been to Malvern since his return, but Olivia, not since she was a child, when she would go over with her mother, and played in the garden with Miles. Then Pembroke was a tall, overbearing boy, a remorseless tease, whose only redeeming trait, in her childish eyes,
