"Jake is more than a servant. He is everything to me," the girl
answered, with rising spirit. "He would die for me, and if anything
happened to me and you did not come, I think he would kill you."

There was something of Southern fire in her eyes as she said this, which
made the stranger laugh as he replied, "Nothing will happen, and I'm not
afraid of Jake."

In his heart he was glad the negro was not there, for something warned
him that in the poor black man he might find a formidable obstacle to
his plan. Meanwhile in the house Mandy Ann had been busy with the
supper-table. They ought to have a good deal of light, she thought,
remembering the lamps at Mrs. Perkins's, and as there were only two
candlesticks in the house her fertile brain had contrived two more from
some large round potatoes, cutting a flat piece from one end, making a
hole in the centre to hold the candle, and wrapping some white paper
around the standard. She had taken great pains with the table, trying to
imitate Mrs. Perkins's, and the imitation was rather satisfactory to
herself. The best cloth had been brought out, and though it was yellow
with disuse it showed what it had been. A few roses in a pitcher were in
the centre of the table, and ranged around them were the four candles,
spluttering and running down as tallow candles are apt to do. The dishes
troubled her, they were so thick and nicked in so many places, that it
was difficult to find one which was whole. The stranger had the china
plate, which had done duty as a tray for his card, and he had the only
plated fork in the house: a Christmas gift from Jake to the ole Miss,
who scarcely appreciated it, but insisted that it be wrapped in several
folds of tissue paper and kept in her bureau drawer. Mandy Ann did not
ask if she could have it. She took it and rubbed it with soft sand to