“Oh, I understand all that,” she quickly responded. “But it wasn’t treating me quite fairly—and you know I hate unfairness. And—why shouldn’t I be exposed to the danger if I can do any good? Even if the worst should happen—even if I should take the fever and die, after saving some of these poor creatures’ lives, could you or anybody have made a better use of a girl like me than that?”
Arthur looked at the child earnestly, but the child was no longer there. The eyes that gazed into his were those of a woman!
XII
MAMMY
WHEN Arthur Brent reached the “quarters” that morning he found matters in worse condition than he had feared.
“The whole spot is pestilential,” he said. “How any sane man ever selected it for quarters, I can’t imagine. Gilbert,” calling to the head man who had come in from the field at his master’s summons, “I want you to take all the people out of the crop at once, and send for all the house servants too. Take them with you over to the Haw Branch hill and put every one of them at work building some sort of huts. You must get enough of them done before night, to hold the sick people, for I’m going to clear out these quarters today. I must have enough huts for the sick ones at once. Those who are well will have to sleep out of doors at the Silver Spring tonight.”
“But, Mahstah,” remonstrated Gilbert, “dey ain’t no clapboa’ds to roof wif. Dey ain’t no nuffin—”
“Use fence rails then and cover them with pine tops. I’ll ride over and direct you presently. Send me eight or ten of the strongest young women at once, and then get everybody to work on the shelters. Do you hear?”
When the women came he instructed them how to carry the sick on improvised litters, and half an hour later, with his own hand he set fire to the little negro village. He had allowed nothing to be carried away from it, and he left nothing to chance. One of the negroes came back in frantic haste to save certain “best clothes” and a banjo that he had laboriously made. Arthur ordered him instead to fill up the well with rubbish, so that no one might drink of its waters again.
As soon as the fire was completely in possession the young master rode away to Haw Branch hill to look after the sick ones and direct the work of building shelters for them. Dorothy was already there, tenderly looking to the comfort of the invalids. The litter-bearers would have set their burdens down anywhere and left them there but for Dorothy’s quiet insistence that they should place them in such shade as she could find, and gather an abundance of broomstraw grass for them to lie upon. To Arthur she offered no explanation of her presence, nor was any needed. Arthur understood, and all that he said was:
“God bless you, Dorothy!” a sentiment to which one of the stricken ones responded: