"Then I'll excuse you from wasting any more of your valuable time," Cleo said, rising.
Andy rose and smiled:
"Yassam, but dat ain't all, m'am!"
"No?"
"Nobum. I ain't 'sputin dat de little gal wuz born des lak you say, or des lak, mebbe, de major believes ter dis day"—he paused and leaned over until he could whisper in her ear—"but sposen she die?"
The woman never moved a muscle for an instant. She spoke at last in a half-laughing, incredulous way:
"Suppose she died? Why, what do you mean?"
"Now, mind ye," Andy said, lifting his hands in a persuasive gesture, "I ain't sayin' dat she raly did die—I des say—sposen she die——"
Cleo lost her temper and turned on her tormentor in sudden fury:
"But she didn't! Who dares to tell such a lie? She's living to-day a beautiful, accomplished girl."