If he is in there, and busy over his sermon, go to the barn, and drag out the sleigh for us." Dorothy, white and fair as an angel, in her straight linen nightgown, stood out on the floor, in front of her great black guardian, who made again as though she would seize her and force her back, and pleaded with her in a thick drone, like an anxious bee, not to go.
"Do as I bid you!" said Dorothy, and glided past her to her dimity dressing-table, and began combing out her yellow hair.
The black woman went out, muttering.
"If my father is in his study on the north side of the house, and busy over his sermon, we can get away; otherwise we cannot," said Dorothy, combing the thick tress over her shoulder.
Madelon went to a south window of the room and looked out.

She could see the barn, and across the road, farther down, the tavern.

She watched while Dorothy bound up her hair, and soon she saw the black woman run, with a low crouch of her great body like a stealthy animal, across the yard.
"Your father is in his study," Madelon said, quickly.

"I will go over to the tavern for a horse if yours is too lame." "He can scarce stand," said Dorothy.

Her soft voice trembled; she trembled all over--then was still with nervous rigors.