"Yo' don' act like yo' was." He stabbed his finger at both of them. "Yo' don't walk with youah noses in the air looking down at us--" "Of course we don't!" interrupted Ricky. "Why should we, when you know more about this place than we do?" "What do yo' mean by that?" he flashed out at her, his sullen face suddenly dark. "Why--why--" Ricky faltered, "Charity Biglow said that you knew all about the swamp--" His tense position relaxed a fraction. "Oh, yo' know Miss Charity?" "Yes. She showed us the picture she is painting, the one you are posing for," Ricky went on. "Miss Charity is a fine lady," he returned with conviction. He shifted from one bare foot to the other. "Ah'll be goin' now." With no other farewell he slipped over the side of the levee into his canoe and headed out into midstream. Nor did he look back. Lucy departed after dinner that evening to bed down her family before returning with Letty-Lou to occupy one of the servant's rooms over the side wing. Rupert had gone with her to interview Sam. Val gathered that Sam had some notion of trying to reintroduce the growing of indigo, a crop which had been forsaken for sugar-cane at the beginning of the nineteenth century when a pest had destroyed the entire indigo crop of that year all over Louisiana. "Let's go out in the garden," suggested Ricky. "What for?" asked her brother. "To provide a free banquet for mosquitoes? No, thank you, let's stay here." "You're lazy," she countered. "You may call it laziness; I call it prudence," he answered. "Well, I'm going anyway," she made a decision which brought Val reluctantly to his feet. For mosquitoes or no mosquitoes, he was not going to allow Ricky to be outside alone. They followed the path which led around the side of the house until it neared the kitchen door. When they reached that point Ricky halted. "Listen!" A plaintive miaow sounded from the kitchen. "Oh, bother! Satan's been left inside. Go and let him out." "Will you stay right here?" Val asked. "Of course. Though I don't see why you and Rupert have taken to acting as if Fu Manchu were loose in our yard. Now hurry up before he claws the screen to pieces. Satan, I mean, not the worthy Chinese gentleman." But Satan did not meet Val at the door. Apparently, having received no immediate answer to his plea, he had withdrawn into the bulk of the house. Speaking unkind things about him under his breath, Val started across the dark kitchen. Suddenly he stopped. He felt the solid edge of the table against his thigh. When he put out his hand he touched the reassuring everyday form of Lucy's stone cooky jar. He was in their own pleasant everyday kitchen. But-- He was not alone in that house! There had been the faintest of sounds from the forepart of the main section, a sound such as Satan might have caused. But Val knew--knew positively--that Satan was guiltless. Someone or something was in the Long Hall.