"Why did you come?" Dorothy asked sharply of the old servant as he closed the door behind him.
"Why, honey, does yer 'spect dare's much enjiment in standin' 'roun' dat 'ere room on one leg like er ole goose, 'lowin' ebery minute dat somebody's gwin to fall erfoul ob yer?"
"But we don't want you here."
"Now, little Missy, yo' won' go fur ter turn de ole man off when he's got more trubble dan he can stan' under. I'se suah gwine ter get er floggin' fur leabin' de door open, an' I ain't sartin Massa Dean won' shoot me, kase he's powerful mad."
Dorothy knew from long experience that Scip would argue the matter with her half an hour or more, provided she did not appeal to her parents meanwhile, and it had suddenly come into her mind that she might need assistance if the officer was to escape out of a back window, as her father had evidently suggested.
"Scip, will you cross your throat—and that's a terrible oath you know—not to tell if I let you help me, and show how we can arrange everything to please father?"
"Suah I will," and the old darkey went through the form of crossing his throat, with great solemnity.
"Didn't you hear mother say she wished the
