“Catherine, you said that you found Dorcas in the garden, by the chicken coop? Surely you must be mistaken, dear. The chicken coop had no place in the garden,” said Roma.
“No, I was not mistaken. I couldn’t have been if I had been possessed of common sense. The chicken coop was in the gooseberry walk, and the old hen was in the coop, poor thing! And the chickies were running in and out. And I took the dear, pretty things up in my hands, and Ducky Darling came up and saw me, and was afraid I was going to hurt them, and that was how I found Ducky Darling, the sweet thing!” Owlet said.
At that moment Hera entered the room, courtesied to her mistress, and stood waiting.
The woman was short and plump, with a skin as black as that of her child, with features almost as pretty, and an expression almost as pleasing. She was neatly clothed in a dark blue calico dress, a white apron, white neck handkerchief and white turban. She was the wife of Nace, and the mother of five small children, two older and two younger than Dorcas, and with only one year between each child and its successor.
“I sent for you, Hera, to take charge of your little one here. She ought not to be allowed around the place at large. It is not safe for her,” said Miss Fronde, speaking very kindly, as she always spoke when obliged to rebuke her servant.
“Lor’, Miss Yoma! She wa’n’t yoamin’ at no large. I pit her inside ob de garden gate wid my own han’,” Hera replied, smiling.
“But why in the garden?”
“’Caze she c’azy arter dem young chicks.”
“Ah! this is what I wish to know. Why did you put the chicken coop into the garden?”
“To keep the little chicks out’n harm’s way, Miss Yoma. Yo’ know dat ole brack shanky yooster?”