Mrs. Graeme looked reflective.
“That preacher has been coming here a good deal lately. I wonder if that could have anything to do with it!” she said, slowly.
Her husband sniffed.
“I will find out.”
At that moment the door opened and in walked Mam' Lyddy and a small boy in all the glory of five years, and all the pride of his first pair of breeches. The old woman's face wore an expression of glumness wholly new to her, and Mr. Graeme's mouth tightened. His wife had only time to whisper: “Now, don't you say a word to her.” But she was too late. Mam' Lyddy's expression drove him to disobedience. He gave her a keen glance, and then said, half jocularly: “Old woman, what is the matter with you lately!”
Mam' Lyddy did not answer immediately. She looked away, then said: “Wid me? Ain't nuttin' de matter wid me.”
“Oh, yes, there is. What is it? Do you want to go home?”
She appeared half startled for an instant, then answered more sharply: “Nor, I don't wan' go home. I ain' got no home to go to.”
“Oh, yes, you have. Well, what is the matter? Out with it. Have you lost any money!”
“Nor, I ain' lost no money 's I knows on.”