“Dolly? Dolly?” cried Mrs. Barclay. “You are surely mistaken, Pete. Where did you see her?” “Over 't we-all's house,” said the boy, grabbing the kitten which had slid from his momentarily inattentive fingers. “Over 't yo'-all's house!” cried Milly, almost in a tone of horror, “en, en is her husban' wid 'er?” The boy grinned contemptuously. “Huh, Miss Dolly ain't no married ooman--you know she ain't, huh! I seh, married! Look heer”--to the kitten--“don't you scratch me, boy!” Mrs. Barclay bent over him greatly excited. “What was she doing over at your house, Pete?” “Nothin' w'en I seed 'er 'cep'jest her en Miss Hattie lyin' in de bed laughin' en car'yin' on.” “Oh, Lordy!” Mrs. Barclay's eyes were riveted on Aunt Milly's beaming face, “do you reckon--?” “She's slep 'over dar many times before now, Miss Annie,” said Aunt Milly, and she burst into a round, ringing laugh, her fat body shaking like a mass of jelly. “She done it time en ergin--time en ergin.” “Well, ain't that a purty mess?” said Mrs. Barclay, almost in a tone of disappointment. “I 'll get the wrapper, Pete, and you tell her to put it on and hurry over here as soon as she possibly can.” A few minutes later Dolly came from the Alexander's and met her mother at the gate. “Oh, Dolly,” Mrs. Barclay cried, “you've got us in an awful mess. We missed you about midnight and we thought--your father made Ned acknowledge that he took a note to Alan Bishop from you, and we thought you had gone off to get married. Your father's in an awful temper, swearing you shall never--” Dolly tossed her head angrily. “Well, you needn't say I got you into it; you did it yourselves and I don't care how much you suffer. I say! When I go to get married it will not be that way, you can depend on it. Now, I reckon, it will be all over town that--” “No, it needn't get out of the family,” Mrs. Barclay assured her, in a guilty tone of apology. “Your pa wouldn't let me raise any alarm. But you _did_ send a note to Alan Bishop, Dolly.” “Yes, I knew he was in town, and would be here to-day, and I simply wrote him that father was angry at our seeing each other again and that I hoped he would avoid meeting him just now--that was all.” “Well, well, well.” Mrs. Barclay hurried through the house and out to where Barclay stood at the lot fence watching Ned curry his horse. “What do you reckon?” she gasped. “Dolly didn't go off at all; she just went to spend the night with Hattie Alexander.” His face changed its expression against his will; the blood flowed into the pallor and a satisfied gleam shot from his half-closed eyes. He turned from her, looking over the fence at the horse. “You're leavin' a splotch on that right hind leg,” he said. “Are you stone blind?” “I was gittin' roun' to it, marster,” said the negro, looking his surprise over such an unexpected reproof. “No; she just wrote Alan that you was displeased at them getting together yesterday and advised him to dodge you to-day while he is in town.”