“Hush! not a word.” Carson cautioned him with uplifted hand, and they all looked at old Linda as she came slowly across the grass. A shudder of horror passed over Dwight at the change in her. The distorted, swollen face was that of a dead person, only faintly vitalized by some mechanical force. The great, always mysterious depths of her eyes were glowing with bestial fires. For a moment she paused near them and stood glaring with incongruous defiance as if nothing in mortal shape could mean aught but ill towards her. “Carson has something--something very important to tell you, dear mammy,” Helen said, “but we must go inside.” “He ain't got nothin' ter tell me dat I don't know,” Linda muttered, “lessen it is whar dey done put my chile's body. Ef you know dat, young marster--ef--” But old Lewis had moved to her side, his face ablaze. He laid his hand forcibly on her shoulder. “Hush, 'oman!” he cried. “In de name er God, shet yo' mouf en listen ter young marster--listen ter 'im Linda, honey--hurry up--hurry up in de house!” “Yes, bring her in here,” Carson said, with a cautious glance around, and he and Helen and Keith moved along the walk while Linda suffered herself, more like an automaton than a human being, to be half dragged, half led up the steps and into the parlor. Keith, who had vaguely put her in the category of the physically ill, placed an easy-chair for her, but from force of habit, while in the presence of her superiors, the old woman refused to sit. She and Lewis stood side by side while Carson carefully closed the door and came back. “We've got some very, very good news for you, Mam' Linda,” said he; “but you must not speak of it to a soul. Linda, the men who took Pete from jail did not kill him. He is still alive and safe, so far, from harm.” To the surprise of them all, Linda only stared blankly at the tremulous speaker. It was her husband who, full of fire and new-found happiness, now leaned over her. “Didn't you hear young marster?” he gulped; “didn't you hear 'im say we-all's boy was erlive?--_erlive_, honey?” With an arm of iron Linda pushed him back and stood before Carson. “You come tell me dat?” she cried, her great breast tumultuously heaving. “Young marster, 'fo' God I done had enough. Don't tell me dat now, en den come say it's er big mistake after you find out de trufe.” “Pete's all right, Linda,” Carson said, reassuringly. “Keith and Helen will tell you about it.”