Suppose you tell us about
the man in the case."
Harry gave a very good description of Brian Kent.
"Oh, damn!" suddenly cried Martha, shaking her skirt vigorously. She had
spilled some of the liquor from her glass.
A woman on the outer edge of the circle whispered to her nearest
neighbor, and a hush fell over the group.
"Well," said Martha, drinking the liquor remaining in her glass, "why
the devil don't we find out who they are, if we are so curious?"
"Find out! How? We'll find out a lot! What would you do,--ask them their
names and where they are from?" came from the company.
"It is easy enough," retorted Martha. "There is that native girl that
Molly picked up the day we landed here to help her in the kitchen. She
must belong in this neighborhood somewhere. I'll bet she can tell us
something. What is her name?"
"Judy,--Judy Taylor. Great idea! Good! Send her out here, Jim,"
responded the others.
When the deformed mountain girl appeared before them, she looked from
face to face with such a frightened and excited expression on her
sallow, old-young features, and such a wild light in her black beady
eyes, that they regarded her with silent interest.
Judy spoke first, and her shrill monotone emphasized her excited state
of mind: "That there nigger said as how Missus Kent was a-wantin' ter
see me. Be ary one of youuns sure 'nough Missus Kent?"
The group drew apart a little, and every face was turned from Judy to
the woman sitting on the top step of the veranda with her back against
the post.
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