Chloe sat on the floor and rocked and moaned, refusing to be comforted.
“I done what she tol’ me was right!” was her cryptic remark which none understood.
“Why do we wait here?” asked Douglas, who was pale as death.
Mrs. Carter had been revived and was lying on a sofa.
“Why, indeed! Let’s get in the hay wagon and go,” said Nan.
“Who can drive it?”
“I!” cried the redoubtable Mrs. Sutton.
Almost all of the carriages and buggies had been requisitioned by the masculine element but the hay wagon remained and a few other vehicles. The horses were quickly unblanketed by the women with the help of the waiters. Mrs. Carter and Douglas were the last to leave the house, as the poor nervous lady was kept quiet until they were ready to start.
Just as they were going out the door Douglas heard a violent ringing of the telephone. Knowing the peculiarities of a country connection and its way of ringing at every house, and also knowing that the long, violent, protracted ringing meant emergency of some sort, Douglas ran to answer it. She distinctly heard Helen’s voice crying the alarm:
“Grantly on fire and a great crowd of negro brutes in the yard!”