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When he was fairly out of the room, she arose quickly, approached the table and reaching for the flask of liquor, thrust it hastily into her pocket, then went to join him. At the moment that Grégoire came up, Joçint issued from a side door and stood looking at the group. “Well, Mrs. Hosma, yere I am. I reckon you was tired waitin’. The buggy’s yonda in the road.”
“Yas, um,” the girl answered to her mistress’ enquiry. “I seed ma’am Hosma goin’ to’ads de riva good hour ’go. She mus’ crost w’en Nathan tuck dat load ova. I yain’t seed ’er comin’ back yit.” Hosmer left the house hastily, hardly reassured by Betsy’s information. Thérèse’s glance speculating and uneasy followed his hurrying figure till it disappeared from sight.
Hosmer hurried Fanny on to the platform, where stood Henry, his clerk. There were a great many negroes loitering about, some of whom offered him a cordial “how’dy Mr. Hosma,” and pushing through was Grégoire, meeting them with the ease of a courtier, and acknowledging Hosmer’s introduction of his wife, with a friendly hand shake.
“Not me; I can’t ride,” wailed Fanny. “You can get up Torpedo for Mrs. Hosmer, can’t you, Grégoire?” asked Thérèse. “Certainly. W’y you could ride ole Torpedo, Mrs. Hosma, if you nova saw a hoss in yo’ life. A li’l chile could manage him.” Fanny turned to Thérèse for further assurance and found all that she looked for.
“Aunt Thérèse sent the buggy down fur you,” he said, “we had rain this mornin’ and the road’s putty heavy. Come this way. Mine out fur that ba’el, Mrs. Hosma, it’s got molasses in. Hiurm bring that buggy ova yere.” “What’s the news, Grégoire?” asked Hosmer, as they waited for Hiram to turn the horses about. “Jus’ about the same’s ev’a.
Come now, don’t be a baby take courage. It will all seem quite different by and by, when the sun shines.” A knock at the door was followed by the entrance of a young colored boy carrying an armful of wood. “Miss T’rèse sont me kin’le fiar fu’ Miss Hosma; ’low he tu’nin’ cole,” he said depositing his load on the hearth; and Fanny, drying her eyes, turned to watch him at his work.
Hosma had a good deal to do w’en he got back, that’s w’y he sent me. An’ we betta hurry up if we expec’ to git any suppa’ to-night. Like as not you’ll fine your kitchen cleaned out.” Fanny looked her inquiry for his meaning. “Why, don’t you know this is ‘Tous-saint’ eve w’en the dead git out o’ their graves an’ walk about?
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