r de Souf I come ter
de Norf. Fer I knows I 'll fin' 'im some er dese days," she added
softly, "er he 'll fin' me, an' den we 'll bofe be as happy in freedom
as we wuz in de ole days befo' de wah." A smile stole over her withered
countenance as she paused a moment, and her bright eyes softened into a
far-away look.

This was the substance of the old woman's story. She had wandered a
little here and there. Mr. Ryder was looking at her curiously when she
finished.

"How have you lived all these years?" he asked.

"Cookin', suh. I 's a good cook. Does you know anybody w'at needs a good
cook, suh? I 's stoppin' wid a cullud fam'ly roun' de corner yonder 'tel
I kin git a place."

"Do you really expect to find your husband? He may be dead long ago."

She shook her head emphatically. "Oh no, he ain' dead. De signs an' de
tokens tells me. I dremp three nights runnin' on'y dis las' week dat I
foun' him."

"He may have married another woman. Your slave marriage would not have
prevented him, for you never lived with him after the war, and without
that your marriage does n't count."

"Would n' make no diff'ence wid Sam. He would n' marry no yuther 'ooman
'tel he foun' out 'bout me. I knows it," she added. "Sump'n 's be'n
tellin' me all dese years dat I 's gwine fin' Sam 'fo' I dies."

"Perhaps he 's outgrown you, and climbed up in the world where he would n't
care to have you find him."

"No, indeed, suh," she replied, "Sam ain' dat kin' er man. He wuz good
ter me, Sam wuz, but he wuz n' much good ter nobody e'se, fer he wuz one
er de triflin'es' han's on de plantation. I 'spec's ter haf ter suppo't
'im w'en I fin' 'im, fer he nebber would work 'less'n he had ter. But
den he wuz free, an' he did n' git no pay fer his work, an' I don' blame
'im much. Mebbe he 's done better sence he run erway, but I ain'
'spectin' much."

"You may have passed him on the street a hundred times during the
twenty-five years, and not have known him; time works great changes."

She smiled incredulously. "I 'd know 'im 'mongs' a hund'ed men. Fer dey
wuz n' no yuther merlatter man like my man Sam, an' I could n' be
mistook. I 's toted his picture roun' wid me twenty-five years."

"May I see it?" asked Mr. Ryder. "It might help me to remember whether I
have seen the original."

As she drew a small parcel from her bosom he saw that it was fastened to
a string that went around her neck. Removing several wrappers, she
brought to light an old-f