“We ain’t got to walk, has we, Mis’ James?” asked Rachel plaintively.
“I don’t see anything else to do, Rachel. Do you?”
“Not yet, but mebbe someone’ll come along. I’d jes’ as soon ride behin’ a mule es not. Th’ misery in my spine is that bad sence I’ve be’n packin’ and movin’ so hard all week.”
“A mule would be welcomed, but there is none,” laughed Natalie.
“Isn’t the landscape beautiful?” said Mrs. James, gazing about with admiring eyes.
“As long as it is all that is beautiful to look at at this station, I must agree with you, Jimmy,” teased Natalie.
But both of them now saw Rachel staring down at the dusty road that ran past the platform, and when she dropped her bags and started along the road, acting in a strange manner, Mrs. James whispered nervously to Natalie.
“What can be the matter, Natalie? Can anything have made her brain turn?”
Rachel kept on going, however, bending over and staring at the dust in the middle of the road. Natalie was dumbfounded at such queer behavior, and was about to call to the colored mammy, when Rachel suddenly stopped, straightened up and shouted at something hidden from the eyes of the two who were waiting with the bags.
“Heigh dere! Come back foh us, yoh hackman!” was the echo that was wafted back to the station and the patient waiters.