"There's to be cabbage. Maybe that will soften her up. She likes
it; gor, how she likes cabbage!" said Harris, almost weeping.

"Harris, how do you think she'll take it?"

"She won't take it well," the old man said. "Miss Elizabeth was
Mr. David's girl. When I come to think it over, I don't take it
well myself, Miss Nannie. Nor you don't, neither. No, she won't
take it well."

"But Miss Elizabeth had broken with Mr. David," Nannie defended
her brother; "Mr. Blair had a right--" then she shivered. "But
_I've_ got to tell her! Oh, Harris, I think she wouldn't
mind so much, if he told her himself?"

Harris considered. "Yes, Miss, she would. Mr. Blair don't put
things right to his ma. He'd say something she wouldn't like.
He'd say something about some of his pretty truck. Them things
always make her mad. That picture he bought--the lady nursin' the
baby, in your parlor; she ain't got over that yet. Oh, no, she'll
take it better from you. You be pretty with her, Miss Nannie. She
likes it when you're pretty with her. I once seen a chippy
sittin' on a cowcatcher; well, it made me think o' you and her.
You be pretty to her, and then tell her, kind of--of easy,"
Harris ended weakly.

Easy! It was all very well to say "_easy_"; Harris might as
well say knock her down "easy." At that moment the back door
banged.