"
But, for all that, Ann and her little boy were quite happy. She was
still sick, and could never be well, for she had consumption; though
she got much better, and could walk about the yard, and sit in front
of her door with Henry in her lap. Her devotion to her baby was
unusual in a slave; she could not bear to have him out of her sight,
and never seemed happy unless he was playing around her or nestling in
her arms.
Mrs. Waldron, of course, never exacted any work of Ann. They had
bought her simply to give her a home and take care of her, and
faithfully that duty was performed. Her meals were carried from the
table, and she had every attention paid to her comfort.
One bright evening, when she was feeling better than usual, she went
out for a walk, and, passing Uncle Snake-bit Bob's shop, she stopped
to look at his baskets, and to let little Henry pick up some white-oak
splits that he seemed to have set his heart on.
The old man, like all the other negroes, was indignant that his master
should have purchased her; for they all prided themselves on being
inherited, and "didn't want no bought folks" among them. He had never
seen her, and now would scarcely look at or speak to her.
"You weave these very nicely," said Ann, examining one of his baskets.
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