Aun' Jinkey watched her curiously, for it was evident that Miss
Lou's thoughts were far away. "Wat you tinkin' 'bout, Miss Lou?" she
asked.

"Oh, I hardly know myself. Come, Aun' Jinkey, be a nice old witch
and tell me my fortune."

"Wat you want ter know yo' fortin fur?"

"I want to know more than I do now. Look here, Aun' Jinkey, does
that run we hear singing yonder go round and round in one place and
with the same current? Doesn't it go on? Uncle and aunt want me to
go round and round, doing the same things and thinking the same
thoughts--not my own thoughts either. Oh, I'm getting so tired of it
all!"

"Lor' now, chile, I wuz des 'parin' you ter dat run in my min',"
said Aun' Jinkey in an awed tone.

"No danger of uncle or aunt comparing me to the run, or anything
else. They never had any children and don't know anything about
young people. They have a sort of prim, old-fashioned ideal of what
the girls in the Baron family should be, and I must become just such
a girl--just like that stiff, queer old portrait of grandma when she
was a girl. Oh, if they knew how tired of it all I am!"

"Bless yo' heart, Miss Lou, you ain' projeckin' anyting?"

"No, I'm just chafing and beating my wings like a caged bird."