The next day this quiet gentleman and good walker went to see old Aunt Patsy, who had apparently consented to live a day or two longer; gave her a little money in lieu of pieces for her crazy bed-quilt; and told her he was going away to stay.  He told Uncle Isham he was going away to stay away; and he said the same thing to Letty, and to Plez, and to two colored women of the neighborhood whom he happened to see.  Then he took his valise, which was not a very large one, and departed.  He refused to be conveyed to the distant station in the spring wagon, saying that he much preferred to walk.  Uncle Isham took leave of him with much sadness, but did not ask him to stay; and Letty and Plez looked after him wistfully, still holding in their hands the coins he had placed there.  With the exception of these coins, the only thing he left behind him was a sealed letter on the parlor table, directed to the mistress of the house.

Toward the end of that afternoon, two women came along the public road which passed the outer gate.  One came from the south, and rode in an open carriage, evidently hired at the railroad station; the other was on foot, and came from the north; she wore a purple sun-bonnet, and carried an umbrella of the same color.  When this latter individual caught sight of the approaching carriage, then at some distance, she stopped short and gazed at it.  She did not retire behind a bush, as she had done on a former occasion, but she stood in the shade of a tree on the side of the road, and waited.  As the carriage came nearer to the gate the surprise upon her face became rapidly mingled with indignation.  The driver had checked the speed of his horses, and, without doubt, intended to stop at the gate.  This might not have been sufficient to excite her emotions, but she now saw clearly, having not been quite certain of it before, that the occupant of the carriage was a lady, and, apparently, a young one, for she wore in her hat some bright-colored flowers.  The driver stopped, got down, opened the gate, and then, mounting to his seat, drove through, leaving the gate standing wide open.

This contempt of ordinary proprietary requirements made the old lady spring out from the shelter of the shade.  Brandishing her umbrella, she was about to cry out to the man to stop and shut the gate, but she restrained herself.  The distance was too great, and, besides, she thought better of it.  She went again into the shade, and waited.  In about ten minutes the carriage came back, but without the lady.  This time the driver got down, shut the gate after him, and drove rapidly away.

If blazing eyes could crack glass, the spectacles of the old lady would have been splintered into many pieces as she stood by the roadside, the end of her umbrella jabbed an inch or two into the ground.  After standing thus for some five minutes, she suddenly turned and walked vigorously away in the direction from which she had come.