Thus as the summer passed she began to realize that a change was taking place in her thoughts about the conflict. And at about the same time she felt that her relations with April had grown strained. She only became aware of it gradually when she noted that her beautiful cousin was apt to leave the room where she was. There were no longer any of the little demonstrations of affection that had marked their earlier intimacy. Constantly she caught April’s eyes upon her as if she was watched with suspicion. There was no act or word that Dorothea could lay hold of, yet all the time she realized a widening of the breach between them.
One rainy morning in the Autumn, Dorothea had gone out on the porch to look for some sign of clearing weather, when her attention was attracted by two drenched figures coming slowly up the drive toward the house. They were colored servants, one an old woman and the other quite a lad, and they were in a truly pitiable state. They were soaked through and their clothing clung to them, dripping water as they walked.
At sight of Dorothea they hastened their steps and, arriving at the porch, begged to be permitted to see “Ol’ Miss.”
Dorothea brought them in out of the wet and went in search of her aunt, whom she found in the weaving-room. Together they returned to the porch, and at sight of the forlorn couple Mrs. May gave an exclamation of surprise.
“Why, Aunt Dilsey, is it you?” she cried. “What brings you here on a day like this?”
For answer the old woman threw herself on her knees at Mrs. May’s feet, her brown face working convulsively.
“Sam and me—we’s done run away!” she sobbed.
“Run away?” echoed Mrs. May as if she could scarcely believe her ears. “Nonsense, Aunt Dilsey! You can’t run away. You’re one of the family.”
“Yes’m, I is,” the old woman moaned, “but we-all’s jes’ ’bliged to run away, and we knows the patrollers will be out after us. That’s why we-all done come hehe. I’s been mighty proud all my days. I’s always said, ‘Dilsey can tote heh own skillet,’ but please, Ol’ Miss, Dilsey can’t tote no skillet no mo’.”
The woman rocked herself with grief and Mrs. May looked down upon her pityingly.