Master Junius was a quiet man, and fond of walking; and the next day he devoted to long rambles, sometimes on the roads, sometimes over the fields, and sometimes through the woods; but in none of his walks, nor when he came back to dinner and supper, did he meet the elderly mistress of the house to which he had come.  That evening, as he sat on the top step of the porch with his pipe, he summoned to him Uncle Isham, and thus addressed the old man: 

“I think it is impossible, Isham, that your mistress started out to meet me, and that an accident happened to her.  I have walked all over this neighborhood, and I know that no accident could have occurred without my seeing or hearing something of it.”

Uncle Isham stood on the ground, his feet close to the bottom step; his hat was in his hand, and his upturned face wore an expression of earnestness which seemed to set uncomfortably upon it.  “Mahs’ Junius,” said he, “dar ain’t no acciden’ come to ole miss; she’s done gone cos she wanted to, an’ she ain’t come back cos she didn’t want to.  Dat’s ole miss, right fru.”

“I suppose,” said the young man, “that as she went away on foot she must be staying with some of the neighbors.  If we were to make inquiries, it certainly would not be difficult to find out where she is.”

“Mahs’ Junius,” said Uncle Isham, his black eyes shining brighter and brighter as he spoke, “dar’s culled people, an’ white folks too in dis yer county who’d put on dere bes’ clothes an’ black dere shoes, an’ skip off wid alacrousness, to do de wus kin’ o sin, dat dey knowed for sartin would send ’em down to de deepes’ and hottes’ gullies ob de lower regions, but nuffin in dis worl’ could make one o’ dem people go ‘quirin’ ’bout ole miss when she didn’t want to be ’quired about.”

The smoker put down his pipe on the top step beside him, and sat for a few moments in thought.  Then he spoke.  “Isham,” he began, “I want you to tell me if you have any notion or idea——­”

“Mahs’ Junius,” exclaimed the old negro, “scuse me fur int’ruptin’, but I can’t help it.  Don’ you go, an ax an ole man like me if I tinks dat ole miss went away cos you was comin’ an’ if it’s my true b’lief dat she’ll neber come back while you is h’yar.  Don’ ask me nuffin like dat, Mahs’ Junius.  Ise libed in dis place all my bawn days, an’ I ain’t neber done nuffin to you, Mahs’ Junius, ‘cept keepin’ you from breakin’ you neck when you was too little to know better.  I neber ’jected to you marryin’ any lady you like bes’, an’ ‘tain’t f’ar Mahs’ Junius, now Ise ole an’ gittin’ on de careen, fur you to ax me wot I tinks about ole miss gwine away an’ comin’ back.  I begs you, Mahs’ Junius, don’ ax me dat.”

Master Junius rose to his feet.  “All right, Isham,” he said; “I shall not worry your good old heart with questions.”  And he went into the house.