CHAPTER VIII

“When?”

The vigilant eyes and constant demands of her mistress prevented Zany from giving Chunk more than a few significant hints, but he was quick to comprehend the situation.  When he saw Miss Lou bending her steps toward his granny’s cottage, he thanked his stars that the garden was in that direction also, and soon apparently was very busy at a good point from which to observe the cabin.  In view of the approaching wedding Mrs. Baron had given Aun’ Jinkey much to do, and she was busily ironing when Miss Lou again stood within the door.  The old woman’s fears had been so greatly aroused that she had insisted that Scoville should remain in the loft.  “Folks ’ll be comin’ en gwine all the eb’nin’, en ole miss hersef mout step dis away.”

At the same time her heart ached for the young girl.  At sight of the sweet, troubled face the faithful creature just dropped into a chair, and throwing her apron over her head, rocked back and forth, moaning “You po’ chile, you po’ chile!”

“Yes, mammy,” cried Miss Lou, forgetting for the moment that a stranger was within hearing.  “I’m in desperate straits, and I don’t know what to do.”

The trap-door was lifted instantly, and Scoville was about to descend.

“You mustn’t do dat!” exclaimed Aun’ Jinkey.  “We’s all in mis’ry anuff now.”

“I hope that in no sense I am the cause of it,” said Scoville, earnestly.

“Oh, no,” replied Miss Lou, wiping her eyes hastily, “not directly.  Pardon me, I forgot for the moment that you were here.  My trouble is with my family, and you have nothing to do with it except as you Yankees are coming South and making trouble of every kind.”

“Well, Miss Baron,” said the scout, regarding her sympathetically through the open door, “it is too late to talk about our coming South.  Isn’t there something I can do for you, to show my gratitude and good-will?”

“Oh, no, indeed!”

“De bes’ ting you kin do, Marse Scoville, is ter shet dat do’ an’ kep still; den git back ter yo’ folks soon ez you kin trabble.  We uns got des ez much ez we kin stan’ up un’er, en ef dey foun’ you yere, hit ud be de worl’ comin’ ter smash.”

“If Miss Baron would tell me her trouble, she might find that I am not so powerless to help as I seem.  Since she has done so much for me, I have a certain kind of right to do what I can in return.”

“You forget, sir, that we are strangers and aliens.”

“No one is an alien to me from whom I am accepting life and safety,” and his glance was so kind and friendly that, in her dire extremity, she was induced to ask a question.

“If you feel that you owe anything to me,” she said, hesitatingly, “tell me truly, if your people came to this plantation, would our home be burned and we all be in danger of insult and death?”

“Is that all you fear?” he asked, smiling.