"'Pears lak Ah c'n see a lady out in de front yard, suh," said Zachariah, at the window.
"You don't say so! Is it Mrs. Gwyn?" cried Kenneth, hastily gulping his coffee as he pushed his chair back from the table.
"Hit ain' light enough fo' to see—"
"Run out and saddle Brandy Boy at once, and be quick about it."
"No, suh, hit ain' Mrs. Gwyn. Hit's Miss Violy. 'Pears lak she comin' over here, suh. Leastwise she come out'n de gate kind o' fast-like,—gotten a shawl wrap aroun'—"
Kenneth waited for no more. He dashed from the house and down to the fence,—where stood Viola, pulling at the swollen, water-soaked gate peg. She was bareheaded, her brown hair hanging down her back in long, thick braids. It was apparent at a glance that she had dressed hastily and but partially at that. With one hand she pinched close about her throat the voluminous scarlet shawl of embroidered crepe in which the upper part of her body was wrapped.
Later he was to observe that her heavy shoes were unlaced and had been drawn on over her bare feet. Her eyes were filled with alarm.
"I don't know where mother is," she said, without other greeting. "She is not in the house, Kenny. I am worried almost sick."
He stared at her in dismay. "Oh, blast the luck! She must have—Say, are you sure she's gone?"
"I can't find her anywhere," cried she, in distress. "I've been out to the barn and—Why, what ails you, Kenneth?"