“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 keerful ob rocks in de road.  Reckon she’s done gone ober to see ole Aun’ Patsy, who’s gwine to die in two or free days, to take her some red an’ yaller pieces for a crazy quilt.  I know she’s got some pieces fur her.”

“Aunt Patsy alive yet?” exclaimed Master Junius.  “But if she’s about to die, what does she want with a crazy quilt?”

“Dat’s fur she shroud,” said Letty.  “She ’tends to go to glory all wrap up in a crazy quilt, jus chockfull ob all de colors of the rainbow.  Aun’ Patsy neber did ‘tend to have a shroud o’ bleached domestic like common folks.  She wants to cut a shine ‘mong de angels, an’ her quilt’s most done, jus’ one corner ob it lef’.  Reckon ole miss done gone to carry her de pieces fur dat corner.  Dere ain’t much time lef’, fur Aun’ Patsy is pretty nigh dead now.  She’s ober two hunnerd years ole.”

“What!” exclaimed Master Junius, “two hundred?”

“Yes, sah,” answered Letty.  “Doctor Peter’s old Jim was more’n a hunnerd when he died, an’ we all knows Aun’ Patsy is twice as ole as ole Jim.”

“I’ll wait here,” said Master Junius, taking up a book.  “I suppose she will be back before long.”

In about half an hour Uncle Isham came into the kitchen, his appearance indicating that he had had a hurried walk, and told Letty that she had better give Master Junius his supper without waiting any longer for her mistress.  “She ain’t at Aun’ Patsy’s,” said the old man, “and she’s jus’ done gone somewhar else, and she’ll come back when she’s a mind to, an’ dar ain’t nuffin else to say ’bout it.”

Supper was eaten; a pipe was smoked on the porch; and Master Junius went to bed in a room which had been carefully prepared for him under the supervision of the mistress; but the purple sun-bonnet, and the umbrella of the same color did not return to the house that night.