He rose, handed her a shilling and started for the door.
Suddenly a whinny from the mare—a wild scream in the night—startled him.
"Who dat?" shouted Mother Cragwell, seizing an old cricket bat and going towards the door.
"Oh, me Gard, me Gard, me Gard—"
The door was slapped open and a Negro woman, draped in white, shaking a black parasol and a hand bag, entered. She was shivering and white-eyed and breathless.
"Calm yo'self, girl, an' stop wringin' yo' hands. Yo' gwine poke out a body eye wit' dat parasol yo' flo'ish dey."
"Oh, Miss Cragwell, Miss Cragwell—"
"Hey, sit down, Lizzie. It is Lizzie Coates. Wha' yo' doin' up yah dis time o' night, girl?"
"Oh, de man in de canes, de man in de canes—"