Little Elisabeth put a finger into her mouth, stared solemnly and with great amazement at The Imp, and then backed into the affectionate arms of Chloe.
“Is it my little darling precious that’s to be spoken to like that?” cried the mulatto woman. She took the child into her arms, crooned over her in a way that the child adored, and shut the door of the tiny room which they shared together. Soon the small child was fast asleep in her white bed, and the mulatto was rolled up on her rug by the door, watchful to guard her dear one from any attacks of the enemy.
“Oh then, it’s me that hates that bit of a horrible black thing!” thought the mulatto, “and that little Irish girl who gave it to her so well—why, I like her, that I do!”
Meanwhile The Imp sat with a hand of Anne Dodd locked in hers, while Grace stared full into Kitty’s face, and presently put out a hand and stroked her curly black hair.
“Do you think I’m going to stand this?” said Kitty, looking with flashing eyes at the two.
“Of course you’re not, darling; we’ll help you, of course we will.”
“We must think out a plan,” said Kitty.
“Yes, we must think out a plan,” exclaimed Anne.
“Look here, girls, there’s no good doing anything except when we’re by ourselves. Then we’ll excite her, and we’ll be three to one. My arms are black and blue from the way she shook me—but three to one! We’ll get her down and whip her till she screams for mercy, as I screamed to-night. Are you willing and ready to help me, girls?”
“Yes, that we are,” said both.