"Dangerous—what on earth can you mean?"
"To begin with that she's a negress——"
"So's mammy—so's the cook—the man—every servant we've ever had—or will have——"
"I'm not so sure of the last," the husband broke in with a frown.
"What's dangerous about the girl, I'd like to know?" his wife demanded.
"I said, to begin with, she's a negress. That's perhaps the least objectionable thing about her as a servant. But she has bad blood in her on her father's side. Old Peeler's as contemptible a scoundrel as I know in the county——"
"The girl don't like him—that's why she left home."
"Did she tell you that?" he asked quizzically.
"Yes, and I'm sorry for her. She wants a good home among decent white people and I'm not going to give her up. I don't care what you say."
The husband ignored the finality of this decision and went on with his argument as though she had not spoken.