Chunk grinned and chuckled.  “Neber was took fer one in my bawn days.”

The young man did as he was bidden, then turned his eyes wistfully and questioningly from the two dark visages back to the girl’s sympathetic face.

“You remember,” she said, “you were being chased, and turned your horse toward a steep bank, which you didn’t see, and fell.”

“Ah, yes—­it’s all growing clear.  You were the woman I caught glimpse of.”

She nodded and said:  “I must go now, or some one will come looking for me.  I won’t speak—­tell about this.  I’m not on your side, but I’m not going to get a helpless man into more trouble.  You may trust Aun’ Jinkey and her grandson.”

“Dat you kin, mars’r,” Chunk ejaculated with peculiar emphasis.

“God bless you, then, for a woman who has a heart.  I’m quite content that you’re not an angel,” and a smile so lighted up the soldier’s features that she thought she had never seen a pleasanter looking man.

Worried indeed that she was returning so much later than usual, she hastened homeward.  Half-way up the path to the house she met a tall, slender negro girl, who exclaimed, “Hi, Miss Lou, ole miss des gettin’ ’stracted ‘bout you, en mars’r sez ef you ain’ at supper in five minits he’s gwine down to Aun’ Jinkey en know what she mean, meckin’ sech’ sturbence in de fambly.”

“How absurd!” thought the girl.  “Being a little late is a disturbance in the family.”  But she hastened on, followed by the girl, who was employed in the capacity of waitress.  This girl, Zany by name, resented in accordance with her own ideas and character the principle of repression which dominated the household.  She threw a kiss toward the cabin under the trees and shook with silent laughter as she muttered, “Dat fer you, Chunk.  You de beat’nst nigger I eber see.  You mos’ ez bro’d ez I is high, yit you’se reachin’ arter me.  I des like ter kill mysef lafin’ wen we dance tergeder,” and she indulged in a jig-step and antics behind Miss Lou’s back until she came in sight of the windows, then appeared as if following a hearse.

Miss Lou entered the rear door of the long, two-story house, surrounded on three sides by a wide piazza.  Mr. Baron, a stout, bald-headed old gentleman, was fuming up and down the dining-room while his wife sat in grim silence at the foot of the table.  It was evident that they had made stiff, old-fashioned toilets, and both looked askance at the flushed face of the almost breathless girl, still in her simple morning costume.  Before she could speak her uncle said, severely, “Since we have waited so long, we will still wait till you can dress.”

The girl was glad to escape to her room in order that she might have time to frame some excuse before she faced the inquisition in store for her.