t big nigger man."

"Weren't you frightened?" exclaimed Kitty, catching her breath. "What
did you say?"

"I said 'Hello!' and then he jumped like he was shot. I asked him his
name, and he said he was named Blue Dave, and he begged me so hard I
promised not to tell he was up there. And then, after that, he used to
come in the garret and tell me no end of tales, and I've got a trunk
full of chestnuts that he brought me. He 'a the best nigger man I ever
saw, less'n it's old Uncle Manuel, and he'll be as good as Uncle Manuel
when he gets that old, 'cause Uncle Manuel said so. And I know it ain't
my fault; and if you want to tell mother you can come and tell her
right now, and then you won't never be my sister any more, never,
never!"

"I think you have acted shamefully," said Kitty. "Suppose he had come
in the garret, and made his way down-stairs, and murdered us all while
we were asleep."

"Well," said Felix, "he could have come any time. I wouldn't be afraid
to go out in the woods and stay with Blue Dave this very night, and if
I had my way he wouldn't be running from old Bill Brand and his dogs.
When I get a man I'm going to save up money and buy Blue Dave: I
thought at first I wanted a pony, but I wouldn't have a pony now."

While they were talking, Kitty heard the rattle of buggy wheels. The
sound came nearer and nearer. Whoever was driving was singing, to pass
the time away, and the quick ear of Kitty recognised the voice of
George Denham. He went dashing by; but he must have seen the girl
standing on the veranda, for he cried out, "Good night, Miss Kitty!"
and then caught up the burden of his song again as he went whirling
down the road. Kitty wrung her hands. She went in to her mother with
tears in her eyes.

"O mother! George has gone by without stopping. What shall we do?"

Mrs. Kendrick was a very practical woman. Knowing nothing of the
freshet in Murder Creek, she was amazed as well as amused at Kitty's
tragic attitude.

"Well, it's most too soon for George to begin to take his meals here, I
reckon," she said dryly. "You'd better make you a cup of ginger-tea and
go to bed."

"But, mother, there's a freshet in Murder Creek. Oh, why didn't he
stop?"

Mrs. Kendrick was kneeling on the floor cutting out clothes for the
plough-hands,--"slaving for her niggers," as she called it. She paused
in her work and looked at Kitty, as if to see whether she had heard her
aright.

"Well, upon my word!" she exclai