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"Go 'long, Miss Lindy. 'Tain't no need o' dat."
"But I'd like to," persisted the girl feeling relief at not immediately being obliged to seek other society than that of the old colored woman to whom she had brought her troubles from babyhood.
Enveloped in a huge gingham apron, she sat down to her task, but was so much more silent than was her wont that the old woman from time to time, raised her eyes to watch her furtively.
Presently she could stand it no longer. "Wha' de matter, honey?" she asked solicitously. "Yuh got sumpin mo' on yo' min' dat honin' fo' Mars Martin."
Linda dropped crab and fork into the dish of crab meat, rested her arms on the table and hid her face in them that Phebe should not see the tears she could no longer keep back.
"Dere, honey, dere baby," crooned Phebe. "Tell yo' ole Mammy all about it. Wha' she been a doin' to Mammy's honey chile?"
Linda lifted her tearful eyes. "Oh, Mammy, I can't stand it. I must go."
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