“Yes, marster!”
“Crawl out o' that bed and come heer!”
“Yes, marster; I'm a-comin'.”
“Oh, Seth, do you reckon—do you—?”
“Dry up, will you?” thundered Barclay. “Are you comin', Ned?”
Uncle Ned's gray head was thrust out at the partly open door.
“You want me, marster?”
“Yes; what do you suppose I called you for if I didn't want you. Now I don't want any lies from you. You know you can't fool me. I want to know if you carried a note from this house to anybody since sundown.”
“A note must have been sent,” ventured Mrs. Barclay, in an undertone. “Dolly never would have gone to him. He must have been notified and come after her.”
“Dry up, for God's sake!” yelled the Colonel over his shoulder to the spectre by his side. “Answer me, you black rascal.”