The house, before which, not many minutes later, this spring wagon
stopped, was not a fine old family mansion like that of Midbranch, but
it was a comfortable dwelling, though an unpretending one. The gentleman
on the back seat, and the driver, who was an elderly negro, both turned
toward the hall door, which was open and lighted by a lamp within, as if
they expected some one to come out on the porch. But nobody came, and,
after a moment's hesitation, the gentleman got down, and taking a valise
from the back of the wagon, mounted the steps of the porch. While he was
doing this the face of the negro man, which could be plainly seen in the
light from the hall door, grew anxious and troubled. When the gentleman
set his valise on the porch, and stood by it without making any attempt
to enter, the old man put down the reins and quickly descending from his
seat, hurried up the steps.

"Dunno whar ole miss is, but I reckon she done gone to look after de
tukkies. She dreffle keerful dat dey all go to roos' ebery night. Walk
right in, Mahs' Junius." And, taking up the valise, he followed the
gentleman into the hall.

There, near the back door, stood the rotund black woman, and, behind
her, Plez. "Look h'yar Letty," said the negro man, "whar ole miss?"

"Dunno," said the woman. "She done gib out supper, an' I ain't seed her
sence. Is dis Mahs' Junius? Reckon' you don' 'member Letty?"

"Yes I do," said the gentleman, shaking hands with her; "but the Letty
I remember was a rather slim young woman."

"Dat's so," said Letty, with a respectful laugh, 'but, shuh 'nuf, my
food's been blessed to me, Mahs' Junius."