which was open and she'd been packing things in it--getting ready to go to England.  But she had stopped now with a folded gown in her lap, and had her face in her hands, crying.  I felt awful bad to see it; of course anybody would.  I went in there and says: “Miss Mary Jane, you can't a-bear to see people in trouble, and I can't--most always.  Tell me about it.” So she done it.  And it was the niggers--I just expected it.  She said the beautiful trip to England was most about spoiled for her; she didn't know _how_ she was ever going to be happy there, knowing the mother and the children warn't ever going to see each other no more--and then busted out bitterer than ever, and flung up her hands, and says: “Oh, dear, dear, to think they ain't _ever_ going to see each other any more!” “But they _will_--and inside of two weeks--and I _know_ it!” says I. Laws, it was out before I could think!  And before I could budge she throws her arms around my neck and told me to say it _again_, say it _again_, say it _again_! I see I had spoke too sudden and said too much, and was in a close place. I asked her to let me think a minute; and she set there, very impatient and excited and handsome, but looking kind of happy and eased-up, like a person that's had a tooth pulled out.  So I went to studying it out.  I says to myself, I reckon a body that ups and tells the truth when he is in a tight place is taking considerable many resks, though I ain't had no experience, and can't say for certain; but it looks so to me, anyway; and yet here's a case where I'm blest if it don't look to me like the truth is better and actuly _safer_ than a lie.  I must lay it by in my mind, and think it over some time or other, it's so kind of strange and unregular. I never see nothing like it.  Well, I says to myself at last, I'm a-going to chance it; I'll up and tell the truth this time, though it does seem most like setting down on a kag of powder and touching it off just to see where you'll go t