Looking out of the window she saw a man unsaddling his horse,
and a crowd of negroes running to meet him. It seemed, also, as if
every one of John's forty-two dogs was equally delighted at the visit.
Such a barking! Such a chorus of welcome! Such exclamations of
satisfaction it is impossible to describe. The new-comer was a man of
immense stature, evidently more used to riding than to walking. For his
gait was slouching, his limbs seemed to dangle about him, and he had a
lazy, listless stoop, as he came up the garden with his saddle over his
arm listening to a score of voices, patting the dogs that leaped around
and upon him, stopping to lift up a little negro baby that had toddled
between his big legs and fallen, and, finally, standing to shake hands
with Uncle Isaac, the patriarch of The Quarters. And as Uncle Isaac
never--except after long absences--paid even "Master John" the honor
of coming to meet him, Elizabeth wondered who the guest could be.
Coming down stairs she met Harriet in her very gayest head-kerchief
and her white-embroidered apron, and her best-company manner: "De
minister am come, Miss Lizzie--de Rev. Mr. Rollins am 'rived; and de
camp-meetin' will be 'ranged 'bout now. I'se powerful sorry you kaint
stay, ma'am."
"Where does Mr. Rollins come from?"
"De Lord knows whar.
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