e--I mean the thug, hit
me a lot harder than he needed to. What was I saying?--oh, yes; the
papers. Will you--will you go over there in the corner by the door and
look behind the mopboard? You will find a piece of it sawed so it will
come out. In the wall behind it there ought to be a package."

She found it readily,--a thick packet securely tied with heavy twine and
a little charred at the corners.

"That's it," he said weakly. "Now one more last favor; please send Aunt
'Phrony up as you go down. Tell her I want my clothes."

Miss Dabney became the trained nurse again in the turning of a leaf.

"You are not going to get up?" she said.

"Yes, I must; I'm due this minute at that meeting down yonder."

"Indeed, you shall do no such insane thing!" she cried. "What are you
thinking of!"

"Listen!" he commanded. "My father has worked hard all his life, and
he's right old now, Ardea. If I should fail him--but I'm not going to.
Please send Aunt 'Phrony."

"I'm going to call your mother," she said firmly.

"If you do, you'll regret it the longest day you live."

"Then let me take the papers down to Mr. Norman for you."

He considered the alternative for a moment--only a moment. What an
exquisite revenge it would be to make her the messenger! But he found he
did not hate her so bitterly as he had been trying to since that
soul-torturing evening on the cliff's edge.

"No, I can't quite do that," he objected; and again he besought her to
send the old negro housekeeper.

She consented finally, and as she was leaving him, she said:

"I hope your mother is still asleep. She was here with you all night,
and Mr. Norman and I made her go to bed at daybreak. If you must go, get
out of the house as quietly as you can, and I'll have Pete and the buggy
waiting for you at the gate."

"God bless you!" said Tom fervently; and then he set his teeth hard and
did that which came next.

The Dabney buggy was waiting for him when, after what seemed like a
pilgrimage of endless miles, he had crept down to the gate. But it was
Miss Dabney, and not Mammy Juliet's Pete, who was holding the reins.

"I couldn't find Pete, and Japheth has gone to town," she explained.
"Can you get in by yourself?"

He was holding on by the cut wheel, and the death-look was creeping
over his face again.

"I can't let you," he panted; and she thought he was thinking of the
disgrace for her.

"I am my own mistress," she said coldly. "If I choose to dr