They reached the drive without sighting Bill, and followed it to the back of the house. Presently Uncle Abe was knocking on the kitchen door.
His second knock was followed by the sound of footsteps and the door opened to disclose an enormously fat negress whose head was bound with a bright red bandanna. The angry glare on her round black face changed to a delighted grin as she recognized her visitor.
“Lord, lordy,” she exclaimed. “If it ain’t Uncle Abe River hisself. Come in outer de wet. You sure is a sight fer sore eyes. Ain’t seen you nohow fer a month er Sundays!”
Liza bustled her callers through an outer pantry into a spacious kitchen.
“I wuz over ter Cross River,” said Uncle Abe, seating himself in a proffered chair. “An’ you is allus so good an ’commydatin’, Liza, I ’lowed I’d drop in an—”
“Find out whedder Liza would ask you t’ dinner,” chuckled that good natured person. “Reckon you ain’t livin’ so high now’days in dat der cabin.”
“Yo’ sho’ is a good guesser,” grinned Uncle Abe. “But I likes ter see ol’ frien’s an’ I wanted speshul ter ax if Marse Joyce could gimme a spell o’ work rakin’ leaves er sump’n.”
Liza pursed her lips an shook her head vigorously.
“’Tain’t likely dat man’d give you nothin’,” she said darkly. “De goin’s on hyar lately is sure terrubul. Wat wid all dese strange men in de house an’ de young gemmun dey brought in han’cuffed las’ night—an’ right froo dis hyar kitchen too—I’se jes’ ’bout ready ter give notice. But I mustn’t say nothin’! Who is dis hyar boy wid you, Uncle?”
Dorothy made a quick decision. “Not a boy, Auntie—a girl,” she said quietly. “—And a friend of the young man who was brought here last night.”