"It is too bad!" exclaimed Miss Roberta. "I will not see him. Peggy," she said, snatching up the key basket, and stepping toward the hall door, "when that gentleman, Mr Croft, comes, you must tell him that I am up-stairs lying down, that I am not well, and cannot see him, and that your Master Robert is not at home." "Ef Mahs' Junius come, does you want me to tell him de same thing?" "But you said he was not in the buggy," said her mistress. "No'm," answered Peggy, "but p'raps he done cut acrost de plough fiel', an' git h'yar fus'." "If he comes first," said Miss Roberta, a shade of severity pervading her handsome features, "I want to see him." And with this, she went up-stairs. Peggy, with her shoes on, possessed the stolid steadiness of a wooden grenadier, for the heaviness of the massive boots seemed to permeate her whole being, and communicated what might be considered a slow and heavy footfall to her intellect. Peggy, without shoes, was a panther on two legs, and her mind, like her body, was capable of enormous leaps. Slipping off her heavy brogans, she made a single bound, and stood upon the railing of the porch, and, throwing her arm around a post, gazed forth from this point of vantage. "Bress my eberlastin' soul!" she exclaimed, "if Mister Crof ain't got ter de road gate, and is a waitin' dar fur somebody to come open it! Does he think anybody gwine to see him all de way from de house, and come open de gate? Reckin' he don' know dat ole mud-color hoss. He mought git out and let down de whole fence, an' dat ole hoss ud nebber move. Bress my soul moh' p'intedly! ef Mahs' Junius ain't comin' 'long ter open de gate!" For a few moments Peggy stood and stared, her mind not capable of grasping this astounding situation. "No, he ain't nudder!" she presently exclaimed with an air of relief. "Mahs' Junius done tole him dat ef he want dat gate open he better git down and open it hese'f. Dat's right Mahs' Junius! Stick up to dat! Dar go Mahs' Junius into de woods an' Mister Crof' he git out, an' go after him. Dey's gwine to fight, sartin, shuh! Lordee! wot fur dey 'low dem bushes ter grow 'long de fence to keep folks from seein' wot's gwine on!" There was nothing now to be seen from the railing, and Peggy jumped down on the porch. Her activity seemed to pervade her being. She ran down the front steps, crossed the lawn, and mounted the stile. Here she could catch sight of the two men who seemed to be disputing. This was too much for Peggy. If there was to be a fight she wanted to see it; and, apart from her curiosity, she had a loyal interest in the event. Down the steps, and along the road she went at the top of her speed, and soon reached the gate. Her arrival was not noticed by any one except the mud-colored horse, who gazed at her inquiringly; and looking through the bars, without opening the gate, Peggy had a good view of the gentlemen.