There was a sound of a footstep in the cottage. Linda appeared in the doorway, and with a clouded face and disturbed manner invited her mistress into the cottage, placing a chair for the young lady, and dusting the bottom of it with her apron. “How do you feel this morning, mammy?” Helen asked, as she sat down. “I'm well emough in my _body_, honey”--the old woman's face was averted--“but dat ain't all ter a pusson in dis life. Ef des my body was all I had, I wouldn't be so bad off, but it's my _mind_, honey. I'm worried 'bout dat boy ergin. I had bad dreams las' night, en thoo 'em all he seemed ter be in some trouble. Den when I woke dis mawnin' en tried ter think 'twas only des er dream, I ain't satisfied wid de way all of um act. Lewis look quar out'n de eyes, en everybody dat pass erlong hatter stop en lead Lewis off down de fence ter talk. I ain't no fool, honey! I notice things when dey ain't natcherl. Den here you come 'fo' yo' breakfust-time. I've watched you, chile, sence you was in de cradle en know every bat er yo' sweet eyes. Oh, honey”--Linda suddenly sat down and covered her face with her hands, pressing them firmly in--“honey,” she muttered, “suppen's done gone wrong. I've knowed it all dis mawnin' en I'm actually afeard ter ax youall ter tell me. I--can't think of but one thing, I'm so muddled up, en dat is dat my boy done thowed up his work en gone away off somers wid bad company; en yit, honey”---she now rocked herself back and forth as if in torture and finished with a steady stare into Helen's face--“dat cayn't be it. Dat ain't bad ernough ter mek Lewis act like he is, en--en--well, honey, you might es well come out wid it. I've had trouble, en I kin have mo'.” Helen sat pale and undecided, unable to formulate any adequate plan of procedure. At this juncture Lewis leaned in the doorway, and, as his wife's back was towards him, he could not see her face. “I want ter step down-town er minute, Lindy,” he said. “I'll be right back. I des want ter go ter de sto'. We're out er coffee, en--” Linda suddenly turned her dark, agonized face upon him. “You are not goin' till you tell me what is gone wrong wid my child,” she said. “What de matter wid Pete, Lewis?” The old man's surprised glance wavered between his Wife's face and Helen's. “Why, Lindy, who say--” he feebly began. But she stopped him with a gesture at once impatient and full of fear. “Tell me!” she said, firmly--“tell me!” Lewis shambled into the cottage and stood over her, a magnificent specimen of the manhood of his race. Helen's eyes were blinded by tears she could hot restrain. “'Tain't tiothiri', Lindy, 'pon my word 'tain't nothin' but dis,” he said, gently. “Dar's been trouble over near Marse Carson's farm, but not one soul is done say Pete was in it--_not one soul_.” “What sort o' trouble?” Linda pursued. “Er man en his wife was killed over dar in baid last night.”