"What?" cried Helena sharply, jumping to her feet. "After me? Who? What do you mean?"
"I dunno," said the Flopper with sudden imperturbability—and evidently quite pleased with the agitation he had caused. "He talks like his mouth was full, an' he's got a scare t'rown inter him so's his teeth have got de jiggles."
Helena caught the Flopper's arm and shook him angrily.
"What are you talking about—what is it?" she demanded fiercely.
"It's de porter from de private car," said the Flopper, wriggling away from her. "He drove out here. De lady's on de toboggan—sick. She's askin' fer youse an'—"
Helena waited for no more. She raced to the cottage and around to the front. A wagon was
standing before the porch; the negro porter on the seat.
"What is it, Sam?" she called anxiously, as she came up. "Is Mrs. Thornton seriously ill?"
"Yas—yas'um, miss," Sam answered excitedly. "I done feel in mah bones she's gwine to die. Miss Harvey she done tole me to get a team an' drive foh you-all like de debbil."
Without waste of words, Helena clambered in beside him.