"Well, haven't I left you alone?" asked Silas. "What do you call this?" There was just the shadow of a smile on her face. "That's a fact," said Silas after a pause. "But I just couldn't help myself. Honestly I'm sorry I came. I'm no match for you. I must bid you good-night. I hardly know what's come over me. If I've worried you, I'm truly sorry." "One of these days," she said very kindly, as she accompanied him to the door, "I'll send for you. At the proper time I'll give you some interesting news." "Well, I hope it will be good news; if so, it will be the first I have heard in many a long day. Good-night." The lady closed the door, and returned to the parlour and sat down. "Why, I thought he was a cold-blooded, heartless creature," she said to herself. Then, after some reflection she uttered an exclamation and clasped her hands together. Suppose he were to make way with himself! The bare thought was enough to keep the smiles away from the face of this merry-hearted lady for many long minutes. Finally, she caught a glimpse of herself in the swinging mirror. She snapped her fingers at her reflection, saying, "Pooh! I wouldn't give that for your firmness of purpose!" CHAPTER SEVENTEEN _Rhody Has Something to Say_ Now, all this time, while the mother was engaged with Silas, Eugenia, the daughter, was having an experience of her own. When Rhody, Silas Tomlin's cook and housekeeper, discovered that Paul had left the house in a fit of anger, she knew at once that something unusual had occurred, and her indignation against Silas Tomlin rose high. She was familiar with every peculiarity of Paul's character, and she was well aware of the fact that behind his calm and cool bearing, which nothing ever seemed to ruffle, was a heart as sensitive and as tender as that of a woman, and a temper hot, obstinate and unreasonable when aroused. So, without taking time to serve Silas's supper, she went in search of Paul. She went to the store where he was the chief clerk, but the doors were closed; she went to the tavern, but he was not to be seen; and she walked along the principal streets, where sometimes the young men strolled after tea. There she met a negro woman, who suggested that he might be at the Gaither Place. "Humph!" snorted Rhody, "how come dat ain't cross my mind? But ef he's dar dis night, ef he run ter dat gal when he in trouble, I better be layin' off ter cook some weddin' doin's." There wasn't a backyard in the town that Rhody didn't know as well as she knew her own, and she stood on no ceremony in entering any of them. She went to the Gaither Place, swung back the gate, shutting it after her with a bang, and stalked into the kitchen as though it belonged to her. At the moment there was no one in sight but Mandy, the house-girl, a bright and good-looking mulatto. "Why, howdy, Miss Rhody!" she exclaimed, in a voice that sounded like a flute. "What wind blowed you in here?"