Nan and Billy Sutton were the only persons at Weston who knew that Helen and Dr. Wright had left the house, and they, according to instructions, had kept mum.

“I hate for Helen to miss one teensy bit of the ball,” Nan said. “She does so adore dancing.”

“I should think she would. Anybody who can dance like that ought to like it. I think she is a ripper to go to those old grouches.”

“Now, Billy, that is no way to talk! Those old ladies are really lovely. You would have gone to them in a minute.”

“Well, maybe! But I wouldn’t have enjoyed leaving this to go.”

“Perhaps they will be able to come back. Miss Louise is an awful alarmist.”

Supper was served, the waiters from Richmond taking affairs into their own hands, so that the untrained country servants at Weston were pushed into the background.

“Miss Helen done said I’s got quite a el’gant air in serving,” grumbled Chloe, when she was not allowed to bear in the trays of dainties to the hungry guests. “I reckon these here town niggers thinks they is the king bees. I don’t care what they says, I’s gonter git a sicond hep ter my Miss Helen.”

The girl filled a tray with salad, croquettes, sandwiches and what not and made her way into the parlors. She peered around for her young mistress. The rooms were well filled with the country guests and many couples were having their supper in the nooks made by the skilful decorators of clumps of palms and evergreens. Chloe peeped behind them all and not finding her Miss Helen she went to Douglas.

“Whar Miss Helen?”

“Why, I don’t know, Chloe! What do you want?”

“I want my Miss Helen ter git her fill er victuals she ain’t had ter mess in.”

“I haven’t seen her,” laughed Douglas. “Ask Miss Nan.”

“Miss Nan, whar Miss Helen?”

“Why, Chloe, she has gone away but may be back later.”

“Whar she gone?”

“She told me not to tell, because she doesn’t want to disturb the others, but she has gone with Dr. Wright to see Miss Ella Grant, who is ill.”

“Miss Ellanlouise is here to the ball, ain’t they?”

“No, they didn’t come.”

“Miss Helen ain’t gone ter Grantly, is she?”

“Of course!”

Then poor Chloe dropped her tray, laden with goodies for her beloved mistress, and a mixture of salad and croquettes and sandwiches rolled over the floor.

“My Gawd! My Gawd!” shrieked the girl. “Whar the count? Whar Mr. Carter? Whar that secondary?”

“What is it?” demanded the count sternly, as he stepped over the dÉbris.

“My Miss Helen done gone ter Grantly!”

“Is that so? Why did she leave?”

His calm tones quieted the girl a little.

“She done gone with Dr. Wright——”

“Miss Ella Grant is ill and Helen went with Dr. Wright to look after her,” put in Nan. “I don’t know why Chloe is so excited.”

By this time the guests were crowding around the corner where Nan and Billy had ensconced themselves for what they thought was to be a quiet little supper.

“’Cited! I tell you, you’d better git a move on you, you count and you secondary. The niggers is planning no good fur Grantly this night.”

“What negroes?” asked the count.

“’Tain’t no diffunce what niggers! You git out that little red devil of a mobile an’ you licksplit ter Grantly as fas’ as you kin, an’ you take mo’n one gun.”

If everybody had not been wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, they would have been amused to see this ignorant country black girl handing out orders to the Count de Lestis as though she were a duchess and he a stable boy.

The count motioned to Herz and they turned and left the room.

“I get in on this!” cried Lewis Somerville.

“And I! And I!” from every male throat in the room.

Many of the farmers had pistols with them, deeming it more prudent to go armed on midnight drives through the lonely districts. Mrs. Carter fainted when it was explained to her where her daughter had gone and what the danger was. For once in her life, however, her husband had no thought for her. He left her to the ministrations of the farmer’s wife in the stiff green silk, and hastened out to climb on the running-board of the count’s little car, which was already under way.

In what seemed like a moment since the poor Chloe had dropped her tray, there was not a single white male left at Weston, except Bobby Carter and he was only left because Lucy held him, scratching and fighting to go to the rescue of his precious sister. Even the musicians from Richmond had joined the posse. The negro waiters stepped gingerly around with many superior airs, congratulating themselves that they were as they were and not as the ignorant country blacks.

Chloe sat on the floor and rocked and moaned, refusing to be comforted.

“I done what she tol’ me was right!” was her cryptic remark which none understood.

“Why do we wait here?” asked Douglas, who was pale as death.

Mrs. Carter had been revived and was lying on a sofa.

“Why, indeed! Let’s get in the hay wagon and go,” said Nan.

“Who can drive it?”

“I!” cried the redoubtable Mrs. Sutton.

Almost all of the carriages and buggies had been requisitioned by the masculine element but the hay wagon remained and a few other vehicles. The horses were quickly unblanketed by the women with the help of the waiters. Mrs. Carter and Douglas were the last to leave the house, as the poor nervous lady was kept quiet until they were ready to start.

Just as they were going out the door Douglas heard a violent ringing of the telephone. Knowing the peculiarities of a country connection and its way of ringing at every house, and also knowing that the long, violent, protracted ringing meant emergency of some sort, Douglas ran to answer it. She distinctly heard Helen’s voice crying the alarm:

“Grantly on fire and a great crowd of negro brutes in the yard!”

“What is it, my dear?” feebly asked Mrs. Carter.

“Nothing at all!” said Douglas calmly. She felt that such a message would only upset her poor mother more, and it was best to keep it locked within her own panting breast.

If any of the persons in that hay wagon should live to be a thousand years old they could never forget that terrible ride over the rough, muddy roads on that twenty-second of February, 1917.

“Look, the moon is up!” whispered Lucy to Mag, both of them remembering the gay ride to the ball only a few hours before and how they had remarked that it would be so jolly going back because the moon would be up.

“Something’s on fire!” someone cried, and then the heavens were lit by the burning straw stack. A straw stack can make more light in the sky than a Woolworth building if both should be set afire; but the straw burns out so quickly that it is little more than a flash in the pan.

Mrs. Sutton proved a famous Jehu. She managed her team quite as well as Billy. Nan sat up on the high seat by her, looking with admiration at the strong, capable hands.

“Do you think they will be in time?” Nan whispered to her valiant companion.

“Sure they will, my dear! They are there by this time and I believe that fire is nothing but a straw stack. Look, even now how it is dying down! Poor Miss Ella and Miss Louise! They seem to have the faculty of not getting along with the darkies. They are as kind as can be to them when they are sick or in want, but they always have an overbearing manner with them when they are well. I wonder what that girl meant by saying she had done just as Helen had told her.”

“I don’t know. Helen has been so patient with Chloe and has really made a pretty good cook of her. She simply adores Helen. She comes to her with all kinds of questions to answer and problems of life to solve. Do you think these colored men would want to kill Helen just because they are angry with the Misses Grant?”

“No, my dear, I don’t think these colored men would want to kill anybody. God grant they are not drunk! That is the only danger I am fearing. I am not afraid of any sober negro alive, but a drunken one is to be avoided like a rattlesnake.”

“Well, Mrs. Sutton, I just feel somehow that God and Dr. Wright are going to take care of Helen,—and Miss Ella and Miss Louise, too.”

“I am sure of it, my dear. I am so sure of it that I am thanking God for having sent Dr. Wright and Helen to Grantly,—otherwise the poor, foolish old ladies might have been found there by the darkies when they expected the house to be empty, with everyone gone to the ball, and then there is no telling what would have happened.” Mrs. Sutton shuddered as though she were cold.

“I keep on thinking of Dr. Wright’s face,—his keen blue eyes and his jaw,—somehow, I believe that jaw will pull them out safely.”