"No one," replied Nan; "I am just mean."
"'Tis ain't so, nohow. Somebody been-a hu't you. You show dem ter Tasma Tid—dee ain't hu't you no mo'."
"Where have you been? Why did you go away and leave me?"
"Nobody want we fer stay. You go off, an' den we go off. We go off an' walk, walk, walk in de graveyard—walk, walk, walk in de graveyard; an' den we go home way off yander in de woods."
"Home! why this is your home; it shall always be your home," cried Nan, touched by the forlorn look in Tasma Tid's eyes, and the despairing expression in her voice.
"No, no, Honey Nan; 'tis-a no home fer we when you drive we 'way fum foller you, when you shak-a yo' haid ef we come trot, trot 'hind you. We no want home lak dat. No, no, Honey Nan. We make home in de woods."
"Where is your home?" Nan inquired, full of curiosity.
"We take-a you dey when dem sun go 'way."
"Well, you must stay here," said Nan, emphatically. "You shall follow me wherever I go."
"You talk-a so dis time, Honey Nan; nex' time—" Tasma Tid ran down the steps, and went along the walk mimicking Nan's movements, shaking her frock first on one side and then on the other. Then she looked over her shoulder, turned around with a frown, stamped her foot and made menacing gestures with her hands. "Dat how 'twill be nex' time, Honey Nan."