"
"Ivory's a brave, strong, honorable man, and a scholar, too. I
can work for him and help him earn and save, as I have you."
"How long's this been goin' on?" The Deacon was choking, but he
meant to get to the bottom of things while he had the chance.
"It has not gone on at all. He has never said a word to me, and I
have always obeyed your will in these matters; but you can't hide
love, any more than you can hide hate. I know Ivory loves me, so
I'm going to tell him that my duty is done here and I am ready to
help him."
"Goin' to throw yourself at his head, be you?" sneered the
Deacon. "By the Lord, I don' know where you two girls got these
loose ways o' think-in' an' acting mebbe he won't take you, an'
then where'll you be? You won't git under my roof again when
you've once left it, you can make up your mind to that!"
"If you have any doubts about Ivory's being willing to take me,
you'd better drive along behind me and listen while I ask him."
Waitstill's tone had an exultant thrill of certainty in it. She
threw up her head, glorying in what she was about to do. If she
laid aside her usual reserve and voiced her thoughts openly, it
was not in the hope of convincing her father, but for the bliss
of putting them into words and intoxicating herself by the sound
of them.
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