“An’ den ’pon top er dat, dar wuz Hamp, my ol’ man. When freedom come out, he tuck de notion dat we better go off some’rs an’ change de name what we got so dey can’t put us back in slave’y. Night an’ day it fair rankle in his min’, an’ he kep’ groanin’ an’ growlin’ ’bout it twel I got stirred up. I oughtn’t ter tell it, suh, but hit’s de Lord’s trufe. I got mad, I did, an’ I tol’ Hamp I’d go. An’ den I wa’n’t doin’ no good stayin’ here. ’Twuz des one mo’ mouf ter feed, an’ mo’ dan one, countin’ Hamp. So, bimeby, one day, when I wuz sorter fretted, I tol’ Hamp ter go on out dar in de country, whar his daddy live at, an’ I’d meet ’im dar ’fo’ night. “When de time come, I went in de house an’ hunt fer Miss Vallie. She ’uz settin’ in de parlor by de winder, but behime de curtain like, so nobody can’t see ’er. She ’uz settin’ dar wid ’er han’s crossed on ’er lap, an’ she look so little, an’ pale, an’ weak, dat I come mighty nigh gwine right back in de kitchen. But she seed me too quick. Den I up’n tell ’er dat I’m gwine out in de country, ter whar Hamp daddy live at. She look at me right hard an’ say, ‘When you comin’ back, Aunt Minervy Ann?’ I ’low, ‘I’m comin’ back des ez soon ez I kin make my ’rangements, honey.’ She say, ‘Well, I hope you’ll have a good time while you er gone.’ I ’low, ‘Thanky, ma’m.’ Wid dat I went an’ got my bundle an’ put opt fum dar—an’ I ain’t look back nudder, bekaze I had a mighty weakness in de knees, an’ a mighty risin’ in my th’oat. “I went on down de road, an’ ef anybody had so much ez said _boo_ ter me, I’d ’a’ turned right ’roun’ an’ gone back home. I went on, I did, twel I come ter de mile branch. I see somebody crossin’ on de log, an’ when I come up wid um, who should it ’a’ been but Marse Tumlin. An’ he had _one chicken_! He had been out ter de plantation—sev’m mile ef its fifty yards—an’ here he wuz comin’ back wid one chicken—an’ him a walkin’, him dat use ter ride ’roun’ in his carriage! Walkin’ an’ totin’ one little chicken! Man, suh! I don’t never want ter feel again like I felt den. Whedder ’twuz de chicken, er what, I never did see Marse Tumlin Perdue look ez ol’ an’ ez weasly ez he did den. He look at me an’ sorter laugh like I done cotch ’im doin’ sump’n he ain’t got no business ter do. But dey wa’n’t no laugh in me; no, suh, not by a jugful. [Illustration: “Drapt down on de groun’ dar an’ holler an’ cry.”] “He say, ‘Hello, Minervy Ann! whar _you_ gwine?’ I ’low, I did, ‘I’m des gwine out yander whar Hamp kinnery live at.’ “He sorter pull his goatee, an’ look down at de dus’ on his shoes—an’ dey wuz fair kiver’d wid it—an’ den he say, ‘Well, Minervy Ann, I wish you mighty well. You sho is done a mighty good part by me an’ mine. Ef yo’ Miss Mary wuz ’live she’d know what ter say—I don’t, ’cep’ dis’—he straighten up an’ stretch out his han’—‘’cep’ dis: whenever you want ter come back home, you’ll fin’ de do’ open. Ef you come at night, des knock. We’ll know yo’ knock.’