Andria’s eyes, full of meaning, caught Salome’s from behind Beryl’s shoulder. The colored woman read them like print. If one had not seen, the other had--and been silent. For an instant the black woman looked rebelliously at the white. If the new red-haired mistress meant there should be accidents Salome would have no hand in them. She moved, stiff with angry suspicion, to the front door. “Guess I’ll lock up now,” she muttered. “Don’t want none o’ dem cats in my kitchen.” “Salome, don’t shut up!” Beryl cried, running to the nearest window. “My cat may be out there; wait till I look. I’m going to bring the poor thing in out of the rain if it’s there.” She stared out into the blinding white mist of wild and streaming rain. It was impossible to see through it if there had been fifty cats; against it there was almost no difference in color between the gray tree-trunks and the green leaves, so blanched was the world. Suddenly lightning passed before her eyes, short, white, and vicious through the pearl-white rain, like a striking sword. After it thunder that shook the very earth. Under cover of the deafening peal of it Andria spoke in Salome’s ear. “Don’t tell her, don’t frighten her,” she whispered. “You and I must take care of her. Oh, Salome, I saw something!” The woman’s face changed as if by magic. “I was suspicioning you,” she said, banging the door. “I don’t fancy dis place an’ dat’s a fact. But if you don’t, neither, I guess we’ll get over dem--all o’ dem,” she laughed savagely, but Andria caught at her black hand as at the hand of a friend. “I trust you, Salome!” she breathed. “Fo’ the Lawd, you kin,” said the woman shortly. “But dey ain’t no time now. You wait, missus, till to-night.” “Oh!” shrieked Beryl. “There’s my cat. I saw it. It’s looking for me. I’ll get it.” Salome, with a bound that was ludicrous in a stout person who shook as she walked, caught the girl half out of the window. “Does you want to get killed by dat lightning?” she cried authoritatively. “I tell you dey ain’t no playing wid de sword of de Lawd in dis country. See dat!” she cried sharply. A tall tree was struck as she spoke, and the thunder drowned the fall of it, as the rain quenched its smoking limbs. “Dey ain’t no cats worf frizzling for, I tell you.” To Andria’s surprise Beryl turned obediently from the window. Salome, with feverish haste, shut up her fortress and lit the lamps. “Dey’ll be good men drowned in dat wind,” she said soberly. “You pray for dem, Miss Ber’l, instead o’ chasing after no cats.” A sudden heavy gust against the house corroborated her. The wind would be a hurricane by and by. In the noise of it the woman muttered to herself despairingly. “She see dat cat in daylight--broad daylight. Oh! my soul--and dey’ll be wind to-night. I dunno what I’m gwine do. I daresn’t tell ’em; he’d murder me just like dat if I did. I got to piroot some way out of it.” And she shook her head meaningly as Andria would have followed her from the room.