began to limp toward the threatening mass, with oaths and orders to
disperse. As for Mr. Baron and the ladies, they were just helpless
in the whirl of events.

Although Miss Lou's back was toward this new phase of the drama, she
instantly and instinctively comprehended it. With a fear almost
hereditary, as well as one vaguely dreaded from childhood, she
recognized the possible horrors of an insurrection, her own action
the indirect cause. She turned and sprang forward so swiftly to
interpose that her comb fell away, and her golden hair streamed
behind her. She stood between the blacks and those who could harm
them; also those whom, in their wild excitement, they were ready to
attack.

"Silence!" she cried; then in the deep hush that followed she called
out, in clear, ringing tones: "Every friend of mine will go back to
quarters, keep quiet, and obey orders. I promise that no harm shall
come to any of you."

The men doffed their ragged hats, and a voice from the crowd
answered, "We 'bey you, Miss Lou, en we won' let no harm come ter
you, noder." Then as the dense, angry mass of a hundred or more men
and women melted away toward the quarters, it was seen that many a
heavy club was carried among them. Miss Lou watched them silently
two or three moments, the rest looking on in wonder and suppressed
anger mingled with fear. The girl returned, and taking her mammy by
the hand, was about to lead her into the house. Whately started as
she essayed to pass him unheedingly, and seized her hand. "Lou,
Cousin Lou, forgive me!" he cried. "You know I meant you no such
indignity."