Black Betsy still went on, mellifluous and voluble. The warmth of her nature seemed boundless. Tears stood in her eyes as she told Bart how she loved his mother. Finally she stopped with a sob, overcome with emotion, as she related the kindness she had received from his father, and began to cry. At this Bart, who had been trying in vain to understand her, finally gave it up, and thought of Solomon. He turned around to speak to him. To his amazement Solomon was not there. And now this completed his bewilderment. He drew a long breath, and gave up altogether every effort to understand anything at all. “Why, where has Solomon gone?” he asked. “Berryin,” said Black Betsy, gently--“berryin. De ole man dreadful fond o’ berries.” “Berries? Well, that’s odd. Why, I want to see him.” “He tink he gib you pleasant ’prise--go pick berries for de dear chicken,” said Black Betsy, in a tender voice. “But I want him,” said Bart. “I want him now. Where did he go?” “Don-no, Mas’r Bart--no mor’n a chile. You call out real loud,--you got to call loud fore dat ar ole man’ll har you. He’s got dreadful deaf an hard o’ hearin o’ late--dese times.” Bart now shouted over and over again, but there was no response. He asked his servant if he had noticed Solomon. The servant had noticed him, and told him about the retreat to the woods. Bart did not know what to make of it all. The apparition of the Flaming Fury had gradually lost its force, and he thought only of the gentle, silvery voice of Black Betsy. The retreat of Solomon, therefore, did not seem to arise from fear of so gentle a being, but from something else--and what could that be? “De ole man tinks you gwine to spen de day,” said Black Betsy. “He gone olf to dig sassy-prilla to make beer. You wait and he come back soon.” So Bart waited a little while, hoping that Solomon would return. But Solomon did not return. Black Betsy entertained him with remarks in her usual strains, chiefly of an affectionate and endearing character; but Bart was so disappointed that he paid but little attention to her. He had come out to get Solomon’s consent to go with him, and had not been able to do so. What was the reason? Could it be possible that Solomon did not want to go, but did not like to refuse, and so had taken this way of getting out of the difficulty? It seemed very much like it. Bart waited an hour or so, and then drove away to an inn on the borders of the lake. Here he dined. Then he drove back again to see Solomon. To his deep disappointment he learned that Solomon had not made his appearance since. He therefore left a message to the effect that he would drive out again on the following day, or, if it was stormy, on the first fine day. This was all he could do; and so, mastering his disappointment as well as he could, he drove home again.