y in the twilight. Night was
coming--the time when all creatures, save ravening night feeders,
feel apprehension, crave shelter, search out a haven for repose.
This woman was alone and weary, much in need of some place to rest
her head. Every fiber in her heart craved shelter, comfort,
security, protection.

Dunwody turned, offered her a hand, and led her to the wide double
doors.

CHAPTER X

FREE AND THRALL

"Sally, come here," called Dunwody to one of the row of grinning
negro servants who were loosely lined up in the hall, as much in
curiosity as deference, to give their master his only welcome home.
"Take this lady up to the room in the east part. See that she has
everything she wants. She is not to be disturbed there until
morning, do you hear, Sally? When you come down I want to see you
again. You others there, make your duty to this lady. Call her
Miss Josephine. When she wants anything, you jump and get it. Go
on, now."

They scattered grinning, all but the bent and grizzled old woman
Sally, who now came forward. She looked with blank brown eyes at
the new-comer, herself inscrutable as the Sphinx. If she commented
mentally on the droop of the young woman's mouth and eyes, at least
she said nothing. It was not her place to ask what white folk did,
or why. She took up the traveling-bags and led the way up the
narrow stairway which made out of the central hall.

"Sally," said Josephine, turning, when they reached the stairway,
"where's my own maid--the other--Jeanne?"

"I dunno, Ma'am," said Sally. "I reckon she's all right, though.
Dis heah's yuah room, Ma'am, if you please." She shuffled ahead,
into a tall and wide room, which overlooked the lawn and the
approaching road.

Once alone, Josephine flung herself face downward upon the bed and
burst into a storm of tears, her fine courage for once outworn.
She wept until utterly spent. Sally, after leaving the room, had
returned unnoticed, and when at last Josephine turned about she saw
the old woman standing there. A hard hand gently edged under her
heaving shoulder. "Thah now, honey, doan' cry! God A'mighty,
girl, doan' cry dat-a-way. What is wrong, tell me." Sympathy even
of this sort was balm to a woman wholly unnerved. Josephine found
her head on the old negro woman's shoulder.

[Illustration: Her fine courage for once outworn.]

"Now you jus' lay right quiet, Ma'am," went on Sally. "I'se gwine
to git you a little some