Mrs. Cary turned away to hide her laughter.  “How did you catch him?”

“How?” repeated Uncle Billy, while his ancient mind worked with unusual rapidity.  “I got down on all fo’s in the thick weeds, an’ cluk like a hen.  An’ den ol’ Mr. Rooster, he came ’long over to see ef I done laid an aig—­an’ I des reach right out an’ take him home to de Lawd.”

“Oh, Uncle Billy,” his mistress laughed.  “I’m afraid you’re incorrigible.  It’s a dreadful thing to doubt one’s very dinner.  Isn’t it?”

“Yas’m.  An’ I was des ‘bout to say ef you an’ Miss Virgie kin worry down de white meat, maybe den dis here bird ’ll kinder git eben wid me when I tackle his drum sticks.  Yas’m,” and with a final chuckle of joy over his success the old man hobbled quickly away in the direction of the kitchen.

Mrs. Cary, still smiling, went back to play Mrs. Fatima to a dusky moss-covered Blue Beard.

“Oh goody, goody, here is Mrs. Fatima again!” and Virgie’s dancing feet seemed hardly to touch the ground.  “We’ve just finished building the castle.  Look!” She pointed proudly to a square of twigs and leaves around the garden seat.  “Come on, Sally Ann.  We can play it now and use Mamma’s keys.”

“Wait dar!  Whar’d I put my s’wode?” And Sally Ann snatched up her dangerous weapon and thrust it into a rope around her waist.  “Now I’se ready fo’ killin’ folks.”

“But we have to begin where Blue Beard goes away on a journey,” Virgie cried.  “Susan Jemima, you sit there on the bench and clap your hands.  Get up, Mamma.  Go ahead, Sally Ann!”

“’Ooman,” said Sally Ann, strutting up to her mistress and frowning terribly.  “I’se gwine away fer a night an’ a day.  Dese yere is de keys to de castle.”

“Yes, sir,” was the meek response.

Sally Ann Blue Beard pointed to an imaginary door halfway between them and where Virgie sat on the steps, wriggling with delight.  “You kin look in ev’ry room in de house—­castle, I means—­’cept in des dat one.  Orn’estan me? Des dat one! But ef yo’ looks in dar,—­Gawd he’p you.  I gwine cut yo’ haid off,” and the fearful sword whizzed threateningly through the air.  “Fyarwell—­fyarwell.”

“Farewell, my lord,” said Mrs. Cary, and then in a whisper, as Blue Beard stalked away to hide behind a tree.  “What do we do now? Quick!”

“Now I come in,” cried Virgie.  “I’m ‘Sister Anne’ that looks for the horseman in the cloud of dust.”  And jumping up, the child managed to change the tones of her voice in a surprising manner.

“Good morning, fair sister.  Blue Beard has gone away, and now we can look in his secret room.”

“No, Sister Anne, No!  I dare not,” and Mrs. Fatima shrank back full of fear from the imaginary door.  “Urge me no more.  I am afraid.”

“But, Mother,” cried Virgie, with a little squeal of disappointment.  “You have to.  It’s part of the play,” and she led her up to the invisible door.