Flint could only agree.
They bandaged his eyes and quickly led him back over the road by which they had come.
CHAPTER VIII
Brent Rock was brilliantly lighted against Locke's coming. At the foot of the great stairway a group of excited servants had gathered, as if for mutual protection.
"Not another day will I stay in this house," quavered the cook. "What with crazy laughing and the other carryings-on, I'm fair distracted."
"Take shame to yerself, Mary Dolan, for yer gab of quittin', with the master and Miss Eva in sore trouble," answered the second girl. "But as you say," she continued, shaking her head, "it's a gloomy old place, and if it wasn't for Miss Eva I'd not be long in going myself."
"'Ave you no loyalty?" asked the butler, turning on them both.
"Hould yer jaw, Johnny Bull," threatened the cook. "Indade no foreigner can tell Mary Dolan her duty."
So they wrangled back and forth, and the underlying cause of all the discord was the old one—fear.