"
"Well den, Marse Perkins," admitted the terror-stricken woman, "I
des tell you de truf. Dat gran'boy ob min' des come ter say good-by.
Marse Scoville daid en Chunk mos' up Norf by dis time, he went away
so sud'n."
"That Yankee cuss dead?" cried Perkins in undisguised exultation.
"Marse Scoville daid, shot of'n he hoss long way f'um yere," replied
Aun' Jinkey sorrowfully. "He kyant harm you ner you 'im no mo', ner
Chunk neider."
"Why the devil didn't you let us know Chunk was here las' night?"
"He my gran'son," was the simple reply.
"Well he isn't Zany's grandson! Now I know w'at she was snoopin'
round nights fer, en Mrs. Baron'll know, too, 'fore I'm five minutes
older."
Aun' Jinkey threw up her hands and sank back into her chair more
dead than alive. She, too, had been taxed beyond endurance and all
her power to act had ceased with her final effort to show that
pursuit of Chunk would be useless.
Perkins speedily obtained an audience with Mrs. Baron, who became
deeply incensed and especially against Zany.
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