“I know it was not ’Rastus,” declared Kitty, with emphasis. “Besides, the woman, in speaking to Oscar, addressed him by name.”
“She did?” Mandy fell back a step and stared at Kitty. “Oh, go ’way, Miss Kitty, yo’ been dreamin’—why, ’twarn’t possible. I went to de depot with Oscar my own self an’ saw Oscar get on dat train, an’ it done pull out fo’ Front Royal at three o’clock this afternoon.”
It was Kitty’s turn to stare at Mandy. The old woman’s beady black eyes did not shift their gaze. A full minute passed before Kitty broke the silence.
“When did you return, Mandy?” she asked.
“’Bout six or a few minutes after,” Mandy said. “I come upstairs an’ listened to hear ef yo’ was in de house. I didn’t hear nuffin’ an’ didn’t see no light, so I went back to de kitchen to get dinner. I s’posed yo’ hadn’t come in.”
“I was lying down—”
Mandy’s worried expression changed to one of relief and she did not permit Kitty to finish her sentence.
“Dar now, I ’spects yo’ jes’ drap off to sleep an’ dreamed ’bout Oscar bein’ hyar,” she exclaimed. “Dat was it, Honey, dat was it!”
“Oh, was that it?” Kitty’s voice lacked heartiness. “All right, Mandy. Serve dinner when it is ready.”
“Yes, Miss Kitty; it won’t be a minute now. I’se got a real tasty chicken a broilin’. Jes’ go set down, chile; trust ole Mandy to look after yo’.” And she gave the girl’s arm a friendly squeeze as Kitty passed her to go into the dining room.