"Well, then--who's this sailing around with our family name?"

"Who is he? But he must be our close kin, Eleanor. My Uncle David
left--that's it. His wife came from California and she went out there
again to live with her baby. I hadn't heard of them for years. Why,
Eleanor, this boy's father must have been--my first cousin. My young
Uncle David's baby. Those years of trouble after we left home wiped out
so much. I lost track--but that doesn't matter now. Aunt Basha," spoke
Miss Jinny in a quick, efficient voice, which suddenly recalled the
blooming and businesslike mother of the young brood of years ago, "Aunt
Basha, where can I find your young Marse David?"

Aunt Basha smiled radiantly and shook her head. "Cayn't fin' him, honey?
I done tried, and he warn't dar."

"Wasn't where?"

"At de orfice, Miss Jinny."

"At what office?"

"Why, de _Daybreak_ orfice, cose, Miss Jinny. What yether orfice he
gwine be at?"

"Oh!" Miss Jinny followed with ease the windings of the African mind.
"He's a reporter on the _Daybreak_ then."

"'Cose he is, Miss Jinny, ma'am. Whatjer reckon?"