She chuckled reminiscently. “’Twas more than just a wedding, you see, ’twas a public rejoicing, a real triumph--for everyone, it seemed like, except the bride. Not that people didn’t understand, my dearie! More than one said to me, ‘Poor maid, she’s mazed yet with her own good fortune, thinking on the horrors she’s escaped.’ But now”--the old voice grew stern--“they don’t understand. Ezra himself, your husband, don’t understand---- Polly! Are you listening to me?” * * * * * The girl was alert, rigid, her eyes fixed on the window. She lifted a cautious hand. “Ssh! There! Something moves outside.” Granny rose vigorously, though with the aid of her cane, and went to the window. “Who’s there?” she demanded. “Oh--you, black Ben! What are you doing tiptoeing around, startling people? Didn’t the master tell you to stay in the lean-to after dark, until he gets back?” A voice spoke from without. “Yais’m, ole miss. I ’lowed I’d better slip down to de pound to see whaffor de cattle makin’ such a to-do. Ack like dey skeert o’ suthin.” “Dearie me,” said Granny, “I hope it isn’t a wildcat! I doubt if I could kill one of the critters nowadays.” She laughed. “Did I ever tell you about the time I killed a wildcat, Polly, a real painter?” She paused as she passed the chimney shelf, noticing something on it which she picked up to examine. “Why, ’tis an eagle’s feather, a gray one. It’s some time since I’ve seen an eagle near the settlements. They seem to be passing with the Indians. Where’d it come from, do you reckon?” “I found it,” replied the girl, slowly. “On our doorstep. Two days ago.” * * * * * “On our step? Well, well! After the chickens, of course. But it comes close. I must tell Ben to watch for it--he’s a good shot, for a nigger. Well, about my wildcat, child. Get your knitting; a good housewife never sits idle. We won’t need lights for that. I don’t hold with this newfangled way of lighting a dip as soon as you’d say jack-robinson. Rank wastefulness, I call it. Get you a stool and sit beside me--no, closer. I like to be able to touch your pretty hair now and then, just to be sure you’re here. For so long--you weren’t.” The girl seated herself between Granny and the cradle, facing the window, toward which the other’s shoulder was turned.