"Yas; go on up stairs," said Aunt Fanny severely, now completely reassured. "Yer pa mustn't see you like dat. He won't 'prove ob no sech doin's, an' I doesn't eider. Yaller ha'r! Looks like flax! No'm; yer pa oughtn't ter see yer."
"Then don't say a word about seeing me," cautioned Bee, turning to go. "You won't, will you?"
"I ain't gwine ter say nuffin'. 'Tain't none ob my lookout ef yer wants ter spile yer ha'r. I ain't gwine ter hab nuffin' ter do wid hit," returned the negress with dignity.
So, feeling very much like a culprit, Bee stole upstairs. Presently she heard her father re-enter the house, and soon there came a rap on her door.
"What is it?" she asked from under the cover which, girl like, she had drawn over her as soon as she was safely in bed.
"Are you all right, Beatrice?" came her father's voice.
"Yes father."
"Don't be alarmed, but—" Dr. Raymond hesitated, evidently considering whether it would be best to tell her about the intruders. "You are not nervous, are you?"
"No——o;" answered Bee weakly. She was.
She would have liked to have somebody cuddle her for a time, but—there was that awful mask.