as no other woman ever would, but she was untrained, and uneducated, and
unused to the world--his world, which would scan her with cold,
wondering eyes. He couldn't do it, and he wouldn't--certainly, not yet.
He would wait and see what came of his plan which he must unfold, and
tell her why he had come. But not there where the old woman might hear
and understand, and where he felt sure Mandy Ann was listening. She had
stolen down the stairs and gone ostensibly to meet a woman whom Eudora
called Sonsie, and who, she said, came every day to do the work now Jake
was away.

"Who is Jake?" the man asked, and Eudora replied, "The negro who has
taken care of us since I can remember. He is free, but does for us, and
is in Richmond now, valleying for a gentleman who pays him big wage, and
he spends it all for us."

The stranger flushed at her words indicative of her station, and then
suggested that they go outside where they could be sure of being alone,
as he had much to say to her.

"Perhaps you will walk part way with me on my return to the 'Hatty,'" he
said, glancing at his watch and feeling surprised to find how late it
was.

Instantly Eudora, who had seemed so listless, woke up with all the
hospitality of her Southern nature roused to action. "Surely you'll have
supper with me," she said. "Sonsie is here to get it and will have it
directly."

There was no good reason for refusing, although he revolted against
taking supper in that humble cabin, with possibly that old woman at the