“And so am I, Mammy. You know I am,” broke in Jean. “Please, please let me stay.”
For a moment Mammy looked as though she were about to take a wild flight into the wilder weather outside, and her wits along with her; then she stamped her foot and said:
“Yo’ chillern come an’ talk wid yo’ ma.”
[CHAPTER XI—In the Valley.]
“No, dear. I shall not wear myself out,” said Mrs. Carruth, gently, though firmly. “I want you to go back to the house to look after the maids and Jean——”
“Oh, I don’t want to go back! Please, please let me sleep in the Bee-hive, mother. Please, please do,” begged Jean, clasping her arms about her mother’s waist. Constance interrupted:
“Yes, mother, do. I will go back if you are determined not to, for I dare say the maids would be panic-stricken if left alone; but Jean might just as well remain here with you,” for into Constance’s active brain had sprung an idea which she wished to carry out, and she knew she could count upon Jean’s co-operation.
“But you and the maids would be quite alone in the house,” demurred Mrs. Carruth.
“And do you think Jean would be big and valiant enough to protect me from prowlers?” smiled Constance. “It would be a hard-pressed burglar who would venture forth this night, I’m thinking.”
Just then a sound overhead caused Mrs. Carruth to raise her hand to enjoin silence, and Mammy was heard to say soothingly: