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[Illustration: _“I Sho’ Gits Lonesome,” the Old Negro Said_]
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“I suppose the former owner wouldn’t like it, if he knew you had been moved from your old home,” said Kitty.
“No’m, he sho’ wouldn’t. But dey tells me young Massa done been sent crost de big water to fight dem Japs, an’ I ain’t had nobody to write him.”
“I’d be glad to write for you,” Kitty offered.
She was strangely drawn to this old man, not only because of the hints he had let slip to throw more light on the mystery they were trying to solve, but because she knew he represented the best of a forgotten era in the south.
“Dat moighty kind o’ you, li’l Missie, but I don’t know where to send de letter nohow.”
“De Navy, fer sho’. Us fambly always been people ov de sea.”
“Brad, do you have a pencil and a bit of paper?”
“Sure,” said Brad, producing what she desired.
“Uncle Mose all de chillun in de fambly calls me.”
“Give me your sailor’s full name and I’ll try to find out where he is.”
“Oh, Missie, if you do dat de Lawd’ll bless you de res’ o’ yo’ days. He name Charles Whitlaw Tradd. De bes’ blood in all de low country flows in he veins.”
Kitty wrote down the name and said, “It may take some time, but I’ll come back to see you if I can find out where he is.”
“Lawdy, Missie, hit good to talk to real quality folk like y’all once more. You sho’ put me in mind o’ ole Massa’s bride when he brung her home to de island. You’s as much like her as two peas in a pod.”
“Thank you,” said Kitty, and curtsied as she knew the old-fashioned girls used to do. “We must be going now, but we’re glad we met you.”
“It do a lonely old man good to talk to folks like you,” he said with a respectful bow. “I ain’t got nothin’ but memories to live wid now.”
When he was out of hearing Brad whistled softly, “Kit, I’ll have to hand it to you for learning a lot from him. You worked your way right into his heart and found out plenty.”
“Oh, really, Brad, I didn’t purposely treat him nice just to pick him. I warmed to him the minute I saw him. He’s the real thing.”
Suddenly Kitty stopped short, and exclaimed, alarm in her tone, “Brad, where’s Billy?”
