He turned to descend the stairs and ran almost into Alec's arms.

The old man was trembling with excitement and seemed hardly able to control himself.

He had come in search of him, and had waited patiently at Kate's door for the outcome of the interview, every word of which he had overheard.
"Marse Talbot done sont me fer ye, Marse Harry," he said in a low voice; "he wants ye in his li'l' room.

Don't ye take no notice what de young mistis says; she ain't griebin' fer dat man.

Dat Willits blood ain't no 'count, nohow; dey's po' white trash, dey is--eve'ybody knows dat.