CHAPTER II. Little Golden sped across the green lawn, her young heart full of pain and anger at the cruel words her cousins had spoken to her. Flying through the long, dark corridor of the old hall, and passing through several lofty and empty old rooms, she emerged at last in the sunny bay-window where her grandfather dozed daily, surrounded by pots of fragrant roses and geraniums. But with the breathless words of complaint just parting her coral lips, Golden saw that the old arm-chair was vacant. She was surprised and a little dismayed; she had been so sure of finding him there. She turned round and ran out to the sunny kitchen in the back yard, where old Dinah stood at a table ironing some simple white garments for her young mistress, and crooning to herself a fragment of a negro revival tune. The only nurse and the best friend that Golden had ever known after her grandfather, was homely, warm-hearted, black Dinah. Golden loved the old negress dearly. Ever since she had first lisped her name, the girl had familiarly called her "black mammy," after the fashion of most southern children with their nurses. Now she called out quickly before she had reached the kitchen door. "Oh, black mammy, where is grandpa?" Black mammy turned with such a start that she dropped the flat-iron she was wielding with such consummate skill. "Oh! honey, chile, how you skeered me," she cried, "an' I've dropped de flat-iron, and e'enamost burnt my black toes off! What for did ye come callin' me so suddent?" "Where is grandpa?" repeated the child. She came up to the door and looked at Dinah, and the old woman saw how pale she was, and what a strange light gleamed in the violet eyes under their long, curling lashes of golden-brown. "Come, dearie, don't be afeard because de old man ain't a-nid-noddin' in his arm-cheer as usual. He's out a-walkin' wif his son." "Uncle John?" asked little Golden, with a wondering look. "Who else, honey?" said Dinah, as she vigorously rubbed a fresh iron with salt and beeswax. "It is so strange," said Golden, momentarily diverted from her immediate grievance by Dinah's news. "Uncle John comes so seldom. What did he want, black mammy?" "Want? De debbil, his best friend, knows better dan your poor ole black mammy," said Dinah, shaking her head. "All I know is dat he come looking black as a thunder-cloud, and ax ole massa to take a walk with him." "And he went?" said Golden. "Oh! yes, he went, pore ole soul, a-hobblin' off as sweet as a lamb with that snake in the grass!" "Oh! black mammy, grandpa would not like you to speak that way of his son," cried Golden. "I axes your pardon, honey. I spoke my mind afore I thought," answered Dinah. "There is no offense as far as I am concerned," replied her young mistress, readily. "There is no love lost between my uncle and me." Then she added, with a shade of anxiety in her voice: "Will they be long gone, do you think?"