hurried back to the bed, and fed the woman as though she had been a baby.
Soon she thought she could see the influence of food and warmth; but it hurt her to see in the face no indication of consciousness; there was a blank stare that showed no hope of recognition.
As she laid the patient back upon the pillow of straw there was a sound at the door, a sound as of some one knocking the mud from clumsy shoes. A colored woman stepped in.
"How you do, Aunt Judy?"
"Don't disturb her now, she is very weak," warned Cherokee.
The visitor looked somewhat shocked to see a white lady sitting with Aunt Judy's hand in hers, softly rubbing it. "What's ailin' her?" she questioned in a whisper, "we-all ain't hearn nothin' at all."
"I came and found her almost dead with hunger, and she is being terribly neglected."
"Well! fo' de lawd, we-all ain't hearn nary, single word! I 'lowed she was 'bout as common; course I know de ole 'oman bin ailin' all de year, but I didn't know she was down. I wish we had ha' knowed it, we-all would a comed up and holped."
"It is not too late yet," said Cherokee, gently.
