"But whar's ole miss?" persisted the old man. "You, Letty, can't you go
look her up?"

Now was heard the voice of Plez, who meekly emerged from the shade of
Letty. "Ole miss done gone out to de road gate," said he. "I seen her
when I brung de cows."

"Bress my soul!" ejaculated Letty. "Out to de road gate! An' 'spectin'
you too, Mahs' Junius!"

"Didn't she say nuffin to you?" said the old man, addressing Plez.

"She didn't say nuffin to me, Uncle Isham," answered the boy, "'cept if
I didn't quit skeerin' dem cows, an' makin' 'em run wid froin' rocks
till dey ain't got a drip drap o' milk lef' in 'em, she'd whang me ober
de head wid her umbril."

"'Tain't easy to tell whar she done gone from dat," said Letty.

The face of Uncle Isham grew more troubled. "Walk in de parlor, Mahs'
Junius," he said, "an' make yourse'f comf'ble. Ole miss boun' to be back
d'reckly. I'll go put up de hoss."

As the old man went heavily down the porch steps he muttered to himself:
"I was feared o' sumfin like dis; I done feel it in my bones."

The gentleman took a seat in the parlor where Letty had preceded him
with a lamp. "Reckon ole miss didn't spec' you quite so soon, Mahs'
Junius, cos de sorrel hoss is pow'ful slow, and Uncle Isham is mighty