"Well, he ain' goin' to dat ar Zoo," protested Candace, bobbing her black bonnet, from which depended a big figured lace veil. "No, no, Mas'r Joel! Oh, your Grandpa won't neber send him dar," and she clasped her hands, while the tears came into her eyes.
"Yes, he will," stoutly repeated Joel, twisting away to stand still and regard her in intense astonishment, "'cause he said so, and my Grandpapa always does just what he says he will, Candace King."
Whenever the children wished to be very impressive with her they called her "Candace King." This usually overcame her with delight. But on this occasion she didn't notice it at all, but, beginning to blubber, she rocked back and forth on the step, saying between the gusts of her distress, "Oh, no, he won't, neber in all dis worl'."
"I'm going for Polly," said Joel, at his wits' end, and springing past her on the steps. Pip, not to be left alone with that singular old black woman, who now terrified him greatly, pattering after, the two raced into the house.
"Polly!" called Joel. "O dear! Where is she?"
"Here!" cried Polly, bobbing out of the music room, her practice hour being just over. "What is the matter, Joe?"
"Oh, Candace is out on the steps," said Joel, "and I guess she's got a fit."
"Candace out on the steps," cried Polly, "and in a fit! O dear me!" and she rushed out.
To be sure, there sat Candace, rocking back and forth, her face covered with her big hands, and wailing miserably.
"Oh, Candace!" and Polly sank down on the step beside her and throwing her arm around the big black figure, she put her cheek up against one of the black hands, "do tell me what is the matter." Joel and Pip, who had both followed, ranged themselves on either side.