ons. "He!" she continued in a
voice that would have been quite audible to any one standing near. "Upon
my libin' soul, wot brung him h'yar? Miss Rob don' wan' him round,
nohow. I done druv him off wunst. Upon my libin' soul, he's done brung
his bag behin' him on de saddle, an' I reckon he's gwine to stay."

As Mr Croft dismounted and went into the house, Peggy glowered at him;
sundry expressions, sounding very much like odds and ends of
imprecations which she had picked up in the course of a short but
investigative existence, gurgling from her lips. "I wish dat ole Miss
Keswick kunjer him. Ef she knew how Miss Rob hate him, she curl he legs
up, an' gib him mis'ry spranglin' down he back."

The hope of seeing this intruder well "kunjered" by the old lady was the
only thing that gave a promise of peace to the mind of Peggy; and though
her nature was by no means a social one, she determined to make the
acquaintance of some one or other in the house; hoping to find out how
Mrs Keswick conducted her conjurations; at what time of day or night
they were generally put into operation; and how persons could be brought
under their influence.

The breakfast hour in the Keswick house was a variable one. Sometimes
the mistress of the establishment rose early and wanted her morning meal
before she went out of doors; at other times she would go off to some
distant point on the farm to see about something that was doing or ought
to be done, and breakfast would be kept waiting for her. The delays,
however, were not all due to the old lady's irregular habits. Very often
Letty would come up stairs with the information that the "bread ain't
riz;" and as a Virginia breakfast without hot bread would be an
impossibility, the meal would be postponed until the bread did conclude
to rise, or until some substitute, such as "beaten biscuit" had been
provided.

On the morning after his arrival, Lawrence Croft came down stairs about
eight o'clock, and found the lower part of the house deserted; and
glancing into the dining-room as he passed its open door, he saw no
signs of breakfast. The house was cool, but the sun appeared to be
shining warmly outside, and he stepped out of the open back door into a
small flower garden, with a series of broad boards down the walk which
lay along the middle of it. Up and down this board walk Lawrence strode,
breathing the fresh air, and thinking over matters. He was not at all
satisfied at being here during Kesw