"I wish to see Miss Agnes Barker for a moment: is she in?" said Mrs. Harrington with her usual dignified repose of manner, for however much interested, Mabel was not one to invite curiosity by any display of excitement, and it must have been a close observer who could have detected the faint quiver of her voice as she expressed this common-place wish.
"She don't liv hear in dis shantee."
"I know. She lives at General Harrington's, up the river," replied Mabel, "but it is some weeks since she has been there, and I expected to find her with you."
"Missus, pears like you don't know as Miss Agnes is young lady, from top to toe, ebery inch ob her. Is you the Missus?"
"I am Mrs. Harrington," said Mabel, quietly.
"Oh!" exclaimed the woman, prolonging the monosyllable almost into a sneer, "jes come in. I'se mighty sorry de candle all burnt out an done gone."
Mabel entered the house, and sat down in the dim light.
"Is Missus 'lone mong dese hills?" said the woman, retreating to the darkest corner of the room.
"Yes, I am alone!" answered Mabel.
"All 'lone in de dark wid nothin but that whippoorwill to keep company; skeery, ain't it, Missus?"