But dey jes gwine behin' de trees now." The road was not again visible for some distance, but when the buggy reappeared Peggy gave a start, and exclaimed: "Dar's on'y one pusson in it now, Miss Rob." "Which is it ?" exclaimed her mistress quickly, shading her eyes, and endeavoring to see for herself.
"It's Mister Crof'," said Peggy.

"Mahs' Junius mus' done gone back." "It is too bad!" exclaimed Miss Roberta.

"I will not see him.

Peggy," she said, snatching up the key basket, and stepping toward the hall door, "when that gentleman, Mr Croft, comes, you must tell him that I am up-stairs lying down, that I am not well, and cannot see him, and that your Master Robert is not at home." "Ef Mahs' Junius come, does you want me to tell him de same thing ?" "But you said he was not in the buggy," said her mistress.
"No'm," answered Peggy, "but p'raps he done cut acrost de plough fiel', an' git h'yar fus'." "If he comes first," said Miss Roberta, a shade of severity pervading her handsome features, "I want to see him." And with this, she went up-stairs.
Peggy, with her shoes on, possessed the stolid steadiness of a wooden grenadier, for the heaviness of the massive boots seemed to permeate her whole being, and communicated what might be considered a slow and heavy footfall to her intellect.

Peggy, without shoes, was a panther on two legs, and her mind, like her body, was capable of enormous leaps.
Slipping off her heavy brogans, she made a single bound, and stood upon the railing of the porch, and, throwing her arm around a post, gazed forth from this point of vantage.
"Bress my eberlastin' soul!" she exclaimed, "if Mister Crof ain't got ter de road gate, and is a waitin' dar fur somebody to come open it! Does he think anybody gwine to see him all de way from de house, and come open de gate?
Reckin' he don' know dat ole mud-color hoss.