Early the morning of the next day, Matthias came over to tell us about that "poor gal," as he called her.
"She wants to see you, Miss Emily, and they say she wants to talk to me too. Mis' Goodwin said ''pears like you'd better come over thar 'bout three o'clock to-day, if you can.' She's right peart, an' by 'nuther mornin', 'spect she'll call loud for me."
"Do you think you know her, Matthias?"
"Can't say I do, Miss, but seems queer enough, she 'sists on callin' of me 'Peter'—um—gimme sich a feelin' when she spoke dat word," and Matthias looked as if his heart was turning back to his old home, and its never-to-be-forgotten scenes.
Mother sent a basket of delicacies over by him, and Aunt Hildy said:
"Tell Miss Goodwin I'm goin' to bake some of my sweet cookies and send over, and we can make some bread for her; 'twill help along—don't forget it Matthias."
"No, marm, I'll 'member sure," and off he started. As he passed along the path I thought of a word I wanted to say, and ran out of the door in time to see the shadow of a form which I knew must be waiting in the "angle" as we called it. It was where the east L ended, about ten feet from the main front. In the summer I had a bed of blue violets here, and named it "Violet Angle.' I stopped, for I heard a voice, and saw Matthias turn to this spot instead of passing on to the gate as usual. The first salutation I did not hear, but Matthias' reply was "yaas sah." The voice was Mr. Benton's, and I stood riveted to the spot.
"Who is that girl, Matt?" he said.
"Dunno, sah."
"Don't know? Yes, you do know; you can't play your odds on me. I'm not ready to swallow all I hear. I want you to tell me who that girl is, and how she came here."