The guest, mamma and Elsie having been helped, it was now Vi's turn to claim papa's attention.

"What shall I send you, daughter?" he asked.

"Oh nothing, papa, please! no, no, I can't eat live things," she said half shuddering.

"It is not alive my child."

Violet looked utterly bewildered: she had never known her father to say anything that was not perfectly true, yet how could she disbelieve the evidence of her own senses?

"Papa, could it hollow so loud when it was dead?" she asked deprecatingly.

"It did not, my little darling; 'twas I," said Cousin Ronald, preventing papa's reply, "the chick seemed to make the noise but it was really I."

Papa and mamma both confirmed this statement and the puzzled child consented to partake of the mysterious fowl.

Minna, standing with her basket of keys at the back of her mistress's chair, Tom and Prilla, waiting on the table, had been as much startled and mystified by the chicken's sudden outcry as Vi herself, and seized with superst.i.tious fears, turned almost pale with terror.

Mr. Lilburn's a.s.sertion and the concurrent a.s.surance of their master and mistress, relieved their fright; but they were still full of astonishment, and gazed at the guest with wonder and awe.

Of course the story was told in the kitchen and created much curiosity and excitement there.

This excitement was, however, soon lost in a greater when the news of the expected attack from the Ku Klux circulated among them an hour or two later.

It could not be kept from the children, but they were calmed and soothed by mamma's a.s.surance, "G.o.d will take care of us, my darlings, and help papa, grandpa and the rest to drive the bad men away."

"Mamma," said Vi, "we little ones can't fight, but if we pray a good deal to G.o.d, will that help?"

"Yes, daughter, for the Bible tells us G.o.d is the hearer and answerer of prayer."

Elsie herself seemed entirely free from agitation and alarm; full of hope and courage, she inspired those about her with the same feelings; the domestic machinery moved on in its usual quiet, regular fashion.

The kitchen department it is true, was the scene of much earnest talk, but the words were spoken with bated breath, and many an anxious glance from door and window, as if the speakers feared the vicinity of some lurking foe.

Aunt Dicey was overseeing the making of a huge kettle of soft soap.

"Tears like dis yer's a long time a comin'," she said, giving the liquid a vigorous stir, then lifting her paddle and holding it over the kettle to see if it dripped off in the desired ropy condition; "but dere, dis ole sinnah no business growlin' 'bout dat; yah! yah!" and dropping the paddle, she put her hands on her hips, rolled up her eyes and fairly shook with half suppressed laughter.

"What you larfin' at, Aunt Dicey? 'pears you's mighty tickled 'bout suffin'," remarked the cook, looking up in wonder and curiosity from the eggs she was beating.

"What's de fun, Aunt Dicey?" asked Uncle Joe, who sat in the doorway busily engaged in cleaning a gun.

"Why, don't you see, darkies? de soap ain't gwine to come till 'bout de time de Kluxes roun' heyah; den dis chile gib 'em a berry warm deception, yah! yah! yah!"

"A powerful hot one," observed the cook, joining in the laugh; "but dey won't min' it; dey's cobered up, you know."

"'Taint no diffence," remarked Uncle Joe, "de gowns an' masks, dey's nuffin but cotton cloth, an' de hot soap'll permeate right tru, an'

scald de rascal's skins!"

"Dat's so; an' take de skin off too."

Uncle Joe stopped work and mused a moment, scratching his head and gazing into vacancy.

"'Clar to goodness dat's a splendid idea, Aunt Dicey!" he burst out at length. "An' let's hab a kettle ob boilin' lye to tote up stairs in da house, 'bout de time we see de Kluxes comin' up de road; den Aunt Chloe an' Prilla can expense it out ob de windows; a dippah full at a time.

Kin you git um ready fo' den?"

"Dat I kin," she replied with energy, "dis consecrated lye don't take no time to fix. I'll hab it ready, sho' as you lib."

Meanwhile the party from the Oaks had arrived according to appointment, and with Mr. Travilla and his guest, were busy with their arrangements for the coming conflict, when quite unexpectedly old Mr. Dinsmore and Calhoun Conly appeared upon the scene.

"We have broken in upon a conference, I think," remarked the old gentleman, glancing from one to another and noticing that the entrance of himself and grandson seemed to thrown a slight constraint over them.

"Rest a.s.sured, sir, that you are most welcome," replied Mr. Travilla.

"We were conferring together on a matter of importance, but one which I am satisfied need not be concealed from you or Cal. I have had certain information that the Ku Klux--"

"Stay!" cried Calhoun, springing to his feet, a burning flush rising to his very hair, "don't, I beg of you, cousin, say another word in my presence. I--I know I'm liable to be misunderstood--a wrong construction put upon my conduct," he continued glancing in an agony of shame and entreaty from one astonished face to another, "but I beg you will judge me leniently and never, _never_, doubt my loyalty to you all," and bowing courteously to the company he hastily left the room, and hurrying out of the house, mounted his horse and galloped swiftly down the avenue.

For a moment those left behind looked at each other in dumb surprise; then old Mr. Dinsmore broke the silence by a muttered exclamation, "Has the boy gone daft?"

"I think I understand it, sir," said his son, "poor Cal has been deceived and cajoled into joining that organization, under a misapprehension of its deeds and aims, but having learned how base, cruel, and insurrectionary they are, has ceased to act with them--or rather never has acted with them--yet is bound by oath to keep their secrets and do nothing against them."

"Would be perilling his life by taking part against them," added Mr.

Travilla. "I think he has done the very best he could under the circ.u.mstances."

He then went on with his communication to the old gentleman, who received it with a storm of wrath and indignation.

"It is time indeed to put them down when it has come to this!" he exclaimed, "The idea of their daring to attack a man of your standing, an old family like this,--of the best blood in the country! I say it's downright insolence, and I'll come over myself and help chastise them for their temerity."

"Then you counsel resistance, sir?" queried his son.

"Counsel it? of course I do! n.o.body but a coward and poltroon would think of anything else. But what are your plans, Travilla?"

"To barricade the verandas with bags of sand and bales of cotton, leaving loopholes here and there, post ourselves behind these defenses, and do what execution we can upon the a.s.sailants."

"Good! Who's your captain?"

"Your son, sir."

"Very good; he has had little or no experience in actual warfare, but I think his maiden effort will prove a success."

"If on seeing our preparations they depart peaceably, well and good,"

remarked Travilla. "But if they insist on forcing an entrance, we shall feel no scruples about firing upon them."

"Humph! I should think not, indeed!" grunted the old gentleman; "'Self-defense is the first law of nature.'"

"And we are told by our Lord, 'all they that take the sword, shall perish with the sword,'" observed his son.

The arrangements completed, the Dinsmores returned to their homes for the rest of the day.

About dusk the work of barricading was begun, all the able-bodied men on the plantation, both house-servants and field-hands, being set to work at it. The materials had been brought up to the near vicinity of the house during the day. The men's hearts were in the undertaking (not one of them but would have risked his own life freely in defense of their loved master and mistress), and many hands made light and speedy work.