As she ate, she plied the maid with questions. “Does Miss Hathaway light that lamp in the attic every night?”
“Yes'm. She cleans it and fills it herself, and she puts it out every morning. She don't never let me touch it.”
“Why does she keep it there?”
“D' know. She d' know, neither.”
“Why, Hepsey, what do you mean? Why does she do it if she doesn't know why she does it?”
“D'know.'Cause she wants to, I reckon.”
“She's been gone a week, hasn't she?”
“No'm. Only six days. It'll be a week to-morrer.”
Hepsey's remarks were short and jerky, as a rule, and had a certain explosive force.
“Hasn't the lamp been lighted since she went away?”