“My uncle—I’m going to tell him.”
“The men after me may git here any minute,” he urged anxiously.
“They’d not be coming into my room,” she answered, flushing slightly.
“Can’t you hide me down by the river till we start?” he asked, his eyes eagerly searching her face. He was assuming that she would take him down the river: but she gave no sign.
“I’ve got to see if he’ll take you first,” she answered.
“He—your uncle, Tom Sanger? He drinks, I’ve heard. He’d never git to Bindon.”
She did not reply directly to his words. “I’ll come back and tell you. There’s a place you could hide by the river where no one could ever find you,” she said, and left the room.
As she stepped out, she saw the old man standing in the doorway of the other room. His face was petrified with amazement.
“Who you got in that room, Jinny? What man you got in that room? I heard a man’s voice. Is it because o’ him that you bin talkin’ about no weddin’ to-morrow? Is it one o’ the others come back, puttin’ you off Jake again?”
Her eyes flashed fire at his first words, and her breast heaved with anger, but suddenly she became composed again and motioned him to a chair.