"That 'cause yo' ain't nevah see Retta as she used to be. I tell yo' if her chile Rhoda alive at all I go bail she the very likeness o' that woman. My king! but she done scairt me." "Don't yo' go talk such notions to any other person," suggested Pluto. "Yo' get yo'self in trouble when yo' go tellen' how Mrs. McVeigh's company look like a nigger, yo' mind! Why, that lady the highest kind o' quality--most a queen where she comes from. How yo' reckon Mrs. McVeigh like to hear such talk?" "Might'nt a' been the highest quality one I meant," protested Nelse, strong in the impression he had received; "it wa' the othah one, then--the one in a black dress." All three occupants of the carriage had worn dark clothes, in the night all had looked black. Nelse had only observed one closely; but Pluto saw a chance of frightening the old man out of a subject of gossip so derogatory to the dignity of the Terrace folks, and he did not hesitate to use it. "What other one yo' talken' 'bout?" he demanded, stopping short, "my Mistress McVeigh?" "Naw!--think me a bawn fool--you? I mean the _otha_ one--the number three lady." "This here moonlight sure 'nough make you see double, ole man," said Pluto, with a chuckle. "Yo' better paddle yo'self back to your own cabin again 'stead o' hunten' ghost women 'round Lorin'wood, 'cause there wan't only two ladies in that carriage--two _live_ ladies," he added, meaningly, "an' one o' them was my mistress." "Fo' Gawd's sake!" The old man appeared absolutely paralyzed by the statement. His eyes fairly bulged from their sockets. He opened his lips again, but no sound came; a grin of horror was the only describable expression on his face. All the superstition in his blood responded to Pluto's suggestion, and when he finally spoke it was in a ghostly whisper. "I--I done been a looken' for it," he gasped, "take me home--yo'! It's a sure 'nough sign! Last night ole whippo'will flopped ovah my head. Three nights runnen' a hoot owl hooted 'fore my cabin. An' now the ghost of a woman what ain't dead yet, sot there an' stare at me! I ain't entered fo' no mo' races in this heah worl', boy; I done covah the track fo' las' time; I gwine pass undah the line at the jedge stan', I tell yo'. I got my las' warnen'--I gwine home!" CHAPTER XVII. Pluto half carried the old man back to Loringwood, while the other darkies continued their 'possum hunt. Nelse said very little after his avowal of the "sign" and its relation to his lease of life. He had a nervous chill by the time they reached the house and Pluto almost repented of his fiction. Finally he compromised with his conscience by promising himself to own the truth if the frightened old fellow became worse. But nothing more alarming resulted than his decision to return at once to his own cabin, and the further statement that he desired some one be despatched at once for "that gal Cynthy," which was done according to his orders.