“Where is Silas?”
“Silas,” replied the Colonel. “I haven’t seen him since he went to Charleston to attend some dance or another. What on earth is the matter with you, Maria?”
“Come in here,” said Miss Pinckney. She went into the drawing room and they shut the door.
“Silas has run away with Phyl,” said she, “that’s what’s the matter with me. Your son has taken that girl off, Seth Grangerson, and may God have mercy upon him.”
“The red-headed girl?” said the Colonel.
“Phyl,” replied she, “you know quite well whom I mean.”
Colonel Grangerson made a few steps up and down the room to calm himself. Maria Pinckney was speaking to him in a tone which, had it been used by any one else, would have caused an explosion.
“But when did it happen,” he asked, “and where have they gone? Explain yourself, Maria. Good God! Why the fellow never spoke to her scarcely—are you sure of what you say?”
Miss Pinckney told her tale.
“I came here to try and get her back,” said she, “thinking he and she might possibly have come here or that you might know their whereabouts—they have not come, but there is just the chance that they may come here yet.”