It was time to dance again with Zaïda and he went in search of her. He was carrying her shawl, which she had given him to hold.

        "W'at time it is?" she asked him when he had found and secured her. They were under one of the kerosene lamps on the front gallery and he drew forth his silver watch. She seemed to be still laboring under some suppressed excitement that he had noticed before.

        "It's fo'teen minutes pas' twelve," he told her exactly.

        "I wish you'd fine out w'ere Jules is. Go look yonda in the card-room if he's there, an' come tell me." Jules had danced with all the prettiest girls. She knew it was his custom

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after accomplishing this agreeable feat, to retire to the card-room.

        "You'll wait yere till I come back?" he asked.

        "I'll wait yere; you go on." She waited but drew back a little into the shadow. Telèsphore lost no time.

        "Yes, he's yonda playin' cards with Foché an' some others I don' know," he reported when he had discovered her in the shadow. There had been a spasm of alarm when he did not at once see her where he had left her under the lamp.

        "Does he look - look like he's fixed yonda fo' good?"

        "He's got his coat off. Looks like he's fixed pretty comf'table fo' the nex' hour or two."

        "Gi' me my shawl."

        "You cole?" offering to put it around her.

        "No, I ain't cole." She drew the shawl about her shoulders and turned as if to leave him. But a sudden generous impulse seemed to move her, and she added:

        "Come along yonda with me."

        They descended the few rickety steps that led down to the yard. He followed rather than

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accompanied her across the beaten and trampled sward. Those who saw them thought they had gone out to take the air. The beams of light that slanted out from the house were fitful and uncertain, deepening the shadows. The embers under the empty gumbo-pot glared red in the darkness. There was a sound of quiet voices coming from under the trees.

        Zaïda, closely accompanied by Telèsphore, went out where the vehicles and horses were fastened to the fence. She stepped carefully and held up her skirts as if dreading the least speck of dew or of dust.

        "Unhitch Jules' ho'se an' buggy there an' turn 'em 'roun' this way, please." He did as instructed, first backing the pony, then leading it out to where she stood in the half-made road.

        "You goin' home?" he asked her, "betta let me water the pony."

        "Neva mine." She mounted and seating herself grasped the reins. "No, I aint goin' home," she added. He, too, was holding the reins gathered in one hand across the pony's back.

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        "W'ere you goin'?" he demanded.