almost said
"fotch."

"How you know, child, I is goin' to fotch--anything?" Jed's spine was
affecting his moral fibre.

Mary gave her elfish laugh. She rarely smiled, and her laugh was a mere
sound--not harsh, but mirthless.

"I _know!_" she said, "and it came--no matter what it is on The Ship,
and I 'low it will go--on The Ship."

"Gawd A'mighty!" Jed burst out, "you make me creep like I had pneumonia
fever." With this Jed turned to The Rock and confronted The Ship.

"Gawd!" he murmured, "I sho' am anxious and trubbled."

Then he turned, mounted the step of the creaky carriage, and gave his
whip that peculiar twist that only a born master of horses ever can.

It was like Jed to do that which he was ordained to do promptly.

Mary watched him out of sight and then went indoors. She was depressed
and nervous; her keen ear had heard much not intended for her to hear,
but not enough to control the imagination that was fired by
superstition.

"A happening" was looming near. Something grave threatened. The evil
crew of The Ship was but biding its time to strike, and Mary thrilled
and feared at once.

The bread, as Mary sniffed, was ready to be taken from the oven. The
first loaf was poised nicely on the girl's towel-covered hand when a
dark, bent old woman drifted, rather than walked, into the sunny
kitchen. She came noiselessly like a shadow; she was dirty and in rags;
she looked, all but her eyes, as if she might be a hundred years old,
but her eyes held so much fire and undying youth that they were terrible
set in the crinkled, rust-coloured face.

"I want her!" The words, spoken close to her shoulder caused Mary to
drop the loaf and turn in affright.

"I want--her!"

"Gawd! Aunt Becky!" gasped Mary, dropping, like a cloak, the thin veneer
of all that Ridge House had done for her. "Gawd! Aunt Becky, I done
thought you was--dead and all. I ain't seen you in ages. Won't you set?"

The woman stretched a claw-like hand forth and laid it on the shoulder
of the girl.

"Don't you argify with me--Mary Allan. I want her."

There seemed to be no doubt in Mary's mind as to whom Aunt Becky wanted.

"Sister Angela is at prayer, Aunt Becky," she whispered, trying to
escape from the clutch upon her shoulder.

"Mary Allan--go tell her I want her. Go!" There was that in Becky's tone
that commanded obedience. Mary started to the hall, her feet clattering
as she ran toward the chapel on the floor above.

Becky follo