over, Nan suddenly discovered that
she had been in very high spirits, and this, according to the
constitution and by-laws of the land of make-believe, was an
unpardonable offence, especially when, as now, a very dear friend was in
danger. So she went out upon the veranda, and half-way down the steps,
where she seated herself in an attitude of extreme dejection.

While sitting there, Nan suddenly remembered that she did have a
grievance and a very real one. Tasma Tid was in a state of insurrection.
She had not been permitted to accompany her young mistress when the
latter visited her girl-friends, and for a long time she had been
sulking and pouting. An effort had been made to induce Tasma Tid to make
herself useful, but even the strong will of Mrs. Absalom collapsed when
it found itself in conflict with the bright-eyed African.

Tasma Tid had been wounded in her tenderest part--her affections. Her
sentiments and emotions, being primitive, were genuine. Her grief, when
separated from Nan, was very keen. She refused to eat, and for the most
part kept herself in seclusion, and no one was able to find her
hiding-place. Now, when Nan threw herself upon the steps in an attitude
of dejection, with her head on her arm, it happened that Tasma Tid was
prowling about with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. The African,
slipping around the house, suddenly came plump upon the object of her
search. She stood still, and drew a long breath. Here was Honey Nan
apparently in deep trouble. Tasma Tid crept up the steps as silently as
a ghost, and sat beside the prostrate form. If Nan knew, she made no
sign; nor did she move when the African laid a caressing hand on her
hair. It was only when Tasma Tid leaned over and kissed Nan on the hand
that she stirred. She raised her head, saying,

"You shouldn't do that, Tasma Tid; I'm too mean."

"How come you dis away, Honey Nan?" inquired the African in a low tone.
"Who been-a hu't you?"

"No one," replied Nan; "I am just mean."

"'Tis ain't so, nohow. Somebody been-a hu't you. You show dem ter Tasma
Tid--dee ain't hu't you no mo'."

"Where have you been? Why did you go away and leave me?"

"Nobody want we fer stay. You go off, an' den we go off. We go off an'
walk, walk, walk in de graveyard--walk, walk, walk in de graveyard; an'
den we go home way off yander in de woods."

"Home! why this is your home; it shall always be your home," cried Nan,
touched by the forlorn look in Tasma T