When she came to the barn she smiled again, for there was old Zebediah, washing the carriage that had brought them from the boat, as familiar and complacent as if there were no such thing as seven years to pass by.
"Why didn't you tell me, Zebby?" she exclaimed, without explanation. "Why didn't you tell me at the boat?"
The old negro lifted his head in dismay.
"Wha' yer talkin' 'bout, lil Miss?"
"About Mammy, Zebby. They tell me she belongs to Mr. Everett now."
"Yas'm, she sho' do. I done seen her day befo' yistiddy."
"Did she know I was coming?"
"Not tell I done tole her."
"What did she say, Zebby?"
Zebediah's hand went up to his head, scratching thoughtfully.