She said she had, and in truth she had, no other name than "little
Mammy"; and that was the name of her nature. Pure African, but
bronze rather than pure black, and full-sized only in width, her
growth having been hampered as to height by an injury to her hip,
which had lamed her, pulling her figure awry, and burdening her
with a protuberance of the joint. Her mother caused it by dropping
her when a baby, and concealing it, for fear of punishment, until
the dislocation became irremediable. All the animosity of which
little Mammy was capable centered upon this unknown but
never-to-be-forgotten mother of hers; out of this hatred had grown
her love--that is, her destiny, a woman's love being her destiny.
Little Mammy's love was for children.
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