While sitting there, Nan suddenly remembered that she did have a grievance and a very real one. Tasma Tid was in a state of insurrection. She had not been permitted to accompany her young mistress when the latter visited her girl-friends, and for a long time she had been sulking and pouting. An effort had been made to induce Tasma Tid to make herself useful, but even the strong will of Mrs. Absalom collapsed when it found itself in conflict with the bright-eyed African. Tasma Tid had been wounded in her tenderest part--her affections. Her sentiments and emotions, being primitive, were genuine. Her grief, when separated from Nan, was very keen. She refused to eat, and for the most part kept herself in seclusion, and no one was able to find her hiding-place. Now, when Nan threw herself upon the steps in an attitude of dejection, with her head on her arm, it happened that Tasma Tid was prowling about with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. The African, slipping around the house, suddenly came plump upon the object of her search. She stood still, and drew a long breath. Here was Honey Nan apparently in deep trouble. Tasma Tid crept up the steps as silently as a ghost, and sat beside the prostrate form. If Nan knew, she made no sign; nor did she move when the African laid a caressing hand on her hair. It was only when Tasma Tid leaned over and kissed Nan on the hand that she stirred. She raised her head, saying, "You shouldn't do that, Tasma Tid; I'm too mean." "How come you dis away, Honey Nan?" inquired the African in a low tone. "Who been-a hu't you?" "No one," replied Nan; "I am just mean." "'Tis ain't so, nohow. Somebody been-a hu't you. You show dem ter Tasma Tid--dee ain't hu't you no mo'." "Where have you been? Why did you go away and leave me?" "Nobody want we fer stay. You go off, an' den we go off. We go off an' walk, walk, walk in de graveyard--walk, walk, walk in de graveyard; an' den we go home way off yander in de woods." "Home! why this is your home; it shall always be your home," cried Nan, touched by the forlorn look in Tasma Tid's eyes, and the despairing expression in her voice. "No, no, Honey Nan; 'tis-a no home fer we when you drive we 'way fum foller you, when you shak-a yo' haid ef we come trot, trot 'hind you. We no want home lak dat. No, no, Honey Nan. We make home in de woods." "Where is your home?" Nan inquired, full of curiosity. "We take-a you dey when dem sun go 'way." "Well, you must stay here," said Nan, emphatically. "You shall follow me wherever I go." "You talk-a so dis time, Honey Nan; nex' time--" Tasma Tid ran down the steps, and went along the walk mimicking Nan's movements, shaking her frock first on one side and then on the other. Then she looked over her shoulder, turned around with a frown, stamped her foot and made menacing gestures with her hands. "Dat how 'twill be nex' time, Honey Nan."