"No, I can't quite do that," he objected; and again he besought her to send the old negro housekeeper.
She consented finally, and as she was leaving him, she said:
"I hope your mother is still asleep. She was here with you all night, and Mr. Norman and I made her go to bed at daybreak. If you must go, get out of the house as quietly as you can, and I'll have Pete and the buggy waiting for you at the gate."
"God bless you!" said Tom fervently; and then he set his teeth hard and did that which came next.
The Dabney buggy was waiting for him when, after what seemed like a pilgrimage of endless miles, he had crept down to the gate. But it was Miss Dabney, and not Mammy Juliet's Pete, who was holding the reins.
"I couldn't find Pete, and Japheth has gone to town," she explained. "Can you get in by yourself?"
He was holding on by the cut wheel, and the death-look was creeping over his face again.
"I can't let you," he panted; and she thought he was thinking of the disgrace for her.
"I am my own mistress," she said coldly. "If I choose to drive you when you are too sick to hold the reins, it is my own affair."
He shook his head impatiently.