"Much obliged!" the young man exclaimed. "I was thinking that I'd have to take a trip to Hopedale, myself."
"I knew he'd come around," Sarah laughed.
But all unknown to these good people, the divinities were at that moment very busy.
That was the 26th of May, 1835, a date of much importance in the calendar of the Traylors. It had been a clear, warm day, followed by a cloudless, starry night, with a chilly breeze blowing. Between eleven and twelve o'clock Sarah and Samson were awakened by the hoot of an owl in the dooryard. In a moment they heard three taps on a window-pane. They knew what it meant. Both got out of bed and into their clothes as quickly as possible. Samson lighted a candle and put some wood on the fire. Then he opened the door with the candle in his hand. A stalwart, good-looking mulatto man, with a smooth shaven face, stood in the doorway.
"Is the coast clear?" he whispered.
"All clear," Samson answered, in a low tone.
"I'll be back in a minute," said the negro, as he disappeared in the darkness, returning presently with two women, both very black. They sat down in the dim light of the cabin.
"Are you hungry?" Sarah asked.
"We have had only a little bread and butter to-day, madame," said the mulatto, whose speech and manners were like those of an educated white man of the South.
"I'll get you something," said Sarah, as she opened the cupboard.