Anxious to come to the part which most interested herself, she
dipped at once into the center of the subject.
"_Chester Birch, born September 1st, 1755,_"--read the spinster, with a
deliberation that did no great honor to her scholarship.
"Well, what he gib him?"
"_Abigail Birch, born July 12th, 1757,_" continued the housekeeper, in
the same tone.
"I t'ink he ought to gib her 'e spoon."
"_June 1st, 1760. On this awful day, the judgment of an offended God
lighted on my house._" A heavy groan from the adjoining room made the
spinster instinctively close the volume, and Caesar, for a moment, shook
with fear. Neither possessed sufficient resolution to go and examine the
condition of the sufferer, but his heavy breathing continued as usual.
Katy dared not, however, reopen the Bible, and carefully securing its
clasps, it was laid on the table in silence. Caesar took his chair
again, and after looking timidly round the room, remarked,--
"I t'ought he time war' come!"
"No," said Katy, solemnly, "he will live till the tide is out, or the
first cock crows in the morning."
"Poor man!" continued the black, nestling still farther into the chimney
corner, "I hope he lay quiet after he die."
"'Twould be no astonishment to me if he didn't; for they say an unquiet
life makes an uneasy grave.
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