Plez was quite ready for a reckless dash of this kind, and in less than twenty minutes old Patsy was informed that Mr Null had arrived.  The old woman was much affected by the information.  She was uneasy and restless, and talked a good deal to herself, occasionally throwing out a moan or a lament in the direction of her “son Tom’s yaller boy Bob’s chile.”  The crazy quilt, which was not yet finished, though several pieces had been added since we last saw it, was laid aside; and by the help of the above mentioned great granddaughter the old hair trunk was hauled out and opened.  Over this hoard of treasures, Aunt Patsy spent nearly two hours, slowly taking up the various articles it contained, turning them over, mumbling over them, and mentally referring many of them to periods which had become historic.  At length she pulled out from one of the corners of the trunk a pair of very little blue morocco shoes tied together by their strings.  These she took into her lap, and, shortly afterward, had the trunk locked, and pushed back into its place.  The shoes, having been thoroughly examined through her great iron-bound spectacles, were thrust under the mattress of her bed.

That evening, Uncle Isham stepped in to see the old woman, who was counteracting the effects of the cool evening air by sitting as close as possible to the remains of the fire which had cooked the supper.  She was very glad to see him.  She wanted somebody to whom she could unburden her mind.  “Wot you got to say ’bout Miss Annie’s husband,” she asked, “wot done come to-day?”

“Was dat him?” exclaimed the old man.  “Nobody tole me dat.”

This was true, for the good-natured Letty, having discovered the mistake that had been made, had concluded to say nothing about it and to keep away from Aunt Patsy’s for a few days, until the matter should be forgotten.

“Well, I spec Miss Annie’s mighty glad to git him back agin,” continued the old man, after a moment’s reflection.  “He’s right much of a nice lookin’ gemman.  I seed him this ebenin’ a ridin’ wid Mahs’ Junius.”

“P’raps Miss Annie is glad,” said the ole woman, “coz she don’ know.  But I ain’t.”

“Wot’s de reason fur dat?” inquired Isham.

“It’s a pow’ful dreffle thing dat Miss Annie’s husband’s done come down h’yar.  He don’ know ole miss.”

“Wot’s de matter wid ole miss?” asked Isham, in a quick tone.

“She done talk to me ’bout him,” said the old woman.  “She done tole me jus’ wot she think of him.  She hate him from he heel up.  I dunno wot she’ll do to him now she got him.  Mighty great pity fur pore Miss Annie dat he ever come h’yar.”

“Ole miss ain’t gwine ter do nuffin’ to him,” said Isham, in a gruff and troubled tone.

“Don’ you b’lieve dat,” said Aunt Patsy.  “When ole miss don’ like a pusson, dat pusson had better look out.  But I ain’t gwine to be sottin’ h’yar an’ see mis’ry comin’ to Miss Annie.”