through the open door, "it is too late to talk about our coming
South. Isn't there something I can do for you, to show my gratitude
and good-will?"

"Oh, no, indeed!"

"De bes' ting you kin do, Marse Scoville, is ter shet dat do' an'
kep still; den git back ter yo' folks soon ez you kin trabble. We
uns got des ez much ez we kin stan' up un'er, en ef dey foun' you
yere, hit ud be de worl' comin' ter smash."

"If Miss Baron would tell me her trouble, she might find that I am
not so powerless to help as I seem. Since she has done so much for
me, I have a certain kind of right to do what I can in return."

"You forget, sir, that we are strangers and aliens."

"No one is an alien to me from whom I am accepting life and safety,"
and his glance was so kind and friendly that, in her dire extremity,
she was induced to ask a question.

"If you feel that you owe anything to me," she said, hesitatingly,
"tell me truly, if your people came to this plantation, would our
home be burned and we all be in danger of insult and death?"

"Is that all you fear?" he asked, smiling.

"But answer me on your word and honor."

"No, Miss Baron, not from our regular troops. There are vile