When they had gone she called to the old man.

"Uncle Isham," she said, "what did those men want ?" "Tell you what 'tis, Miss Null," said Isham, removing his shapeless felt hat, "dis yere place is gittin' wus an' wus on de careen, an' wat's gwine to happen if ole miss don' come back is more'n I kin tell.

Dar's no groun' ploughed yit for wheat, an' dem two han's been 'gaged to come do it, an' dey put it off, an' put it off till ole miss got as mad as hot coals, an' now at las' dey've come, an' she's not h'yar, an' nuffin' can be done.

De wheat'll be free inches high on ebery oder farm 'fore ole miss git dem plough han's agin." "That is too bad, Uncle Isham," said Mrs Null.

"When land that ought to be ploughed isn't ploughed, it all grows up in old field pines, don't it ?" "It don' do dat straight off, Miss Null," said the old negro, his gray face relaxing into a smile.
"No, I suppose not," said she.