Dazzle was angry. She glared at Hopey with fine rage, and tried to think of something to say that would crush the fat woman flat. But nothing but a falling planet would ever flatten Hopey, so that young colored actress with several histrionic manifestations of intense indignation flounced out of the room, followed by the exasperating chuckles of the victorious Hopey Prophet. In the rear hallway Dazzle paused at sight of the telephone. Her milk-white teeth gnawed at her lower lip as she debated something in her mind. Then, with an air of decision, she sat down at the desk and lifted the receiver from the hook. “Central, I wants to talk to de Hen-Scratch saloon, please, ma’am!” After a moment’s wait something popped in her ear, and a voice spoke: “Hello!” “Is dat you, Skeeter Butts? Listen! Dis here am Dazzle Zenor. I’s at Marse Tom Gaitskill’s home wid Hopey Prophet. Somebody is tryin’ to bu’st in dis house an’ rob it——” A squealing shriek sounded so sharply in Dazzle’s ear that she jerked her head away from the receiver, ceased speaking, and waited until the vocal disturbances had subsided. “Dey is tryin’ to bu’st in de front door, Skeeter!” Dazzle told him. “Me an’ Hopey lef’ de kitchen door onlocked so Vinegar Atts could come in when he got back. Ef dem robbers goes aroun’ to de back side de house, dey’ll shore git in. Come up here right away an’ rescue us!” A squealing interrogation sounded through the phone, and Dazzle smiled as she answered: “Dar ain’t more’n seven robbers, Skeeter. But you kin lick ’em like you done in de army. Don’t git skeart!” Although Skeeter’s reply was not intelligible, his shrieking voice, in reply, was audible even in the drawing-room, where Hopey sat shaking like a jelly-bowl with laughter. “Come all alone by yo’se’f, Skeeter!” Dazzle implored him. “Us don’t want no crowd up here an’ no excitemunt. Don’t tell no white folks!” Dazzle paused to listen to a few more excited squawkings from the telephone, then she commanded: “Come by yo’se’f, an’ come in a hurry, befo’ I gits kilt! Fer Gawd’s sake, hurry, Skeeter!” She left the telephone and entered the room where Hopey sat, smiling with great satisfaction. “You done played a fool now!” Hopey told her. Dazzle preened herself before a mirror in preparation for Skeeter’s arrival. “Skeeter’s comin’, Hopey,” Dazzle giggled. “’Tain’t no matter how big a coward a feller is, he’s afraid to cornfess dat he’s a ’fraid-cat!” II Skeeter Butts hung up the receiver at his end of the line and staggered across the Hen-Scratch saloon. His face was convulsed, and the odd distortions due to the contraction and relaxation of its muscles would lead one to believe that an electric shock received over the telephone had twisted his face and he was trying to set it right.