“Suppose”—Katharine’s voice was dreamy—“that she and John met suddenly, without warning. What would she do? Would she say anything? Perhaps she would faint....” Shirley started violently. Her hands, as they drew her cloak uncertainly about her, began to tremble, as if with cold. Something fell from them to the bottom of the surrey. Through her chiffon veil Katharine noted this with a slow smile. It had been easier than she had thought. She said no more, and the carriage rolled on, to the accompaniment of giggles over the judge’s [Pg 339]peroration. As it neared the Rosewood lane she leaned toward Shirley. “You have dropped your fan,” said she “—and your gloves, too.... I might have reached them for you. Why, we are there already. How short the drive has seemed!” “Don’t drive up the lane, Lige,” said Shirley, and her voice seemed sharp and strange even to herself. “The wheels would wake mother.” Katharine bade her good-by with careful sweetness, as the judge bundled her down in his strong friendly arms. “No,” she told him, “don’t come with me. It’s not a bit necessary. Emmaline will be waiting for me.” He climbed into her vacant place as the girls called their good nights. “We’ll all sleep late enough in the morning, I reckon,” he said with a laugh, “but it’s been a great success!” [Pg 340] CHAPTER XXXIX WHAT THE CAPE JESSAMINES KNEW Emmaline was crouched in a chair in the hall, a rug thrown over her knees, in open-mouthed slumber. She started up at the touch of Shirley’s hand, yawning widely. “I ’clare t’ goodness,” she muttered, “I was jes’ fixin’ t’ go t’ sleep!” The lamp on the table was low and she turned up the wick, then threw up her arms like ramrods, in delight. “Lor’, honey,” she said in a rapturous whisper, “I reck’n they all say yo’ was th’ purties’ queen on earth, when th’ vict’ry man set that crown, with th’ di’mon’s as big as scaley-barks, on that little gol’ haid! But yo’ pale, honey-chile. Yo’ dance yo’se’f mos’ ter death, I reck’n.” “I—I’m so tired, Emmaline. Take the crown. It’s heavy.” The negro woman untangled the glittering points from the meshing hair with careful fingers. “Po’ li’l chickydee-dee!” she said lovingly. “Reck’n she flop all th’ feddahs outer her wings. Gimme that ol’ tin crown—I like ter lam’ it out th’ winder! [Pg 341]Come on, now; we go up-stairs soft so’s not ter ’sturb Mis’ Judith.” In the silvery-blue bedroom, she deftly unfastened the hooks of the heavy satin gown and coaxed her mistress to lie on the sofa while she unpinned the masses of waving hair till they lay in a rich surge over the cushion. Then she brought a brush and crouching down beside her, began with long gentle strokes to smooth out the silken threads, talking to her the while in a soft crooning monotone.