Sallie Tom clutched her hands angrily together under her apron. She had an intense desire to wring their necks, the little whippersnappers, she muttered under her breath. Give up Mars’ Bobbie? Not as long as a drop of blood was in her veins; but outwardly she gave no sign. “Yes, I seen you is got a pow’ful lot of men outside,” she said, chuckling as if highly amused. “I counted you when you comed up, an’ dere’s six of you; you two is in heah, an’ de other fo’ is at de fo’ corner’s of de house. Lordy, gent’mens, you all sutny don’t know nothin’ ’bout dis heah place when you comes up wid six men to frighten a lot of women folks. Dis heah place is ‘White Point,’ an’ we all is jes ez used to seein’ men ’round heah ez flies in summer. Why, our Mars’ Tayloe didn’t think nothin’ o’ callin’ up a hundred head o’ niggers at a time an’ givin’ em eggnog an’ sich on Christmas. You all oughter bringed up suppin’ what would a-looked like suppin’ when you was a-comin’; but I don’t s’pose you all is frum anywhar near dese heah parts, an’ cose you didn’t kno’ no better.” Sallie Tom’s cheerfully condescending tone was irresistible. The two men laughed in spite of themselves. “We acknowledge our ignorance, old woman,” the Lieutenant answered, “and now, as I don’t think our friend is in any of these chairs or sofas, we would like to move on.” Sallie Tom opened the door and they walked into the hall. A cheerful light from the library streamed out, and the laughing and talking sounded as if the inmates were entirely uninterested in the search being made through the house. The two men stopped instinctively at the door and bowed politely. Dorothy sprang from her chair and came toward them, also Anne Carter, and whatever was in their hearts, they concealed it well.