“What is it, Serena?” asked Virginia, hurrying into the hall.
“Jes some pussons dat ain’ know whar dey ’long,” snarled the old negress, beginning to vibrate under the stress of anger as she glared at three highly indignant women waiting without.
Virginia felt that it was necessary to interfere in the tense situation. “I am Miss Dale. I shall be glad to talk to you if you wish to come in,” she told the strangers, to Serena’s disgust.
The hostility of these visitors melted in a degree at this display of hospitality; but their manner was cool as they followed the girl into the living room.
“We are a committee from the Women’s Civic Club of Amity, a town situated ten miles below here on the river,” explained Mrs. Duncan, a stern faced female, after they had introduced themselves. “We ask that you inform your father of our call.”
“I shall be glad to do that,” Virginia promised. “Am I to explain the purpose of your visit to him?”
Mrs. Duncan gazed questioningly at the girl. “We ask you to do that, and if you have a heart we hope that you will use your influence in our behalf. You may tell him–” her eyes blazed–“that we come on the part of the women of Amity to protest against his killing us by putting poison in our drinking water.”
“What?” gasped an astonished Virginia.
“We don’t propose to sit quiet and allow Obadiah Dale to murder our children.”
“I don’t understand.”