“Nothing but what is necessary on the road,” the Colonel replied, and an old satchel was filled with a night-dress, a clean apron, a pair of stockings, and Mandy Ann’s tears, which fell like rain as she performed her last office for the little girl, who, now that Jaky was going, began to look forward to the trip with childish delight.

Judy was wrapped carefully in paper and put into the satchel, and then she was ready.  Mandy Ann went with her to the boat, where, as it was late, scarcely any one was visible except Ted, to whom Mandy Ann intrusted her charge, bidding him ’muse her when he could, and whispering to him the good luck which had come to her and Jake through the Colonel’s generosity.  Then with a terrible wrench in her heart, she took the child in her arms and said, “Doan’ you forget me, honey, an’ some time you’ll be comin’ agen.  Oh, I can’t bar it!” and with a wail which was scarcely like a human cry she dropped the child, and hurrying from the boat ran swiftly up the lane, and was soon out of sight.  There were two or three bursts of tears for Mandy Ann, but for the most part the little girl was quiet until Savannah was reached, and she heard Jake was to leave her.  Then she showed of what she was capable, and the Colonel looked on aghast, wondering what he should do when Jake was gone.  She had played on the way with Judy, whose appearance had provoked a smile from some of the passengers, making the Colonel wonder if there were not something more reputable in looks than Judy, with her features of ink and the sewed-up gash in the side of her neck from which a little bran was still oozing.  He didn’t know much about dolls, but was sure there must be some in Savannah, and he went on a tour of inspection, and found a gold ring with a small stone in it for Mandy Ann in place of the one buried with poor Dory.  This he would give to Jake to take home to the negro girl, he thought, and then continued his search for dolls, finding one which could stand up, and sit down, and was gorgeous in a satin dress, with earrings in its ears.  This was more in keeping with his ideas, and he took it to the hotel, hoping he had seen the last of Judy, who, he suggested, should be thrown away.  He didn’t know children.  The little girl was delighted with her new doll, which she handled gingerly, as if afraid to touch it, and which she called Mandy Ann.  But she clung to Judy just the same, quite to the disgust of the Colonel.

Poor Jake grew thin during the few days they spent in Savannah, and he knew he was nearing the end.

“I must buy her somfin’,” he thought, and one morning when he was walking with her past a dry goods store he saw in the window a little scarlet merino cloak, lined with white satin, and looking so pretty that he stopped to look at it, while the little girl jumped up and down, exclaiming, “Oh, the buffitel cloak.  Me wants it, Shaky; me wants it.”