Maude's long nose unexpectedly wrinkled up. ``Happened to be in the hall! Happened to hear you quarrel about her! Oh, well, you cann't really blame Lolotte. She lost her beau to you.''

But she was talking of Emile when she saw the black line of the open door; Sarah remembered it clearly. Maude went on. ``I've got to get busy. Miss Celie's taken to her bed, with the door locked. She opened it an inch and poked out the keys for me to give you. Here'' -- She thrust a bundle of keys strung on a thick red cord into Sarah's hand. ``Not that there's much use in locking up the smokehouse and the storehouse now. Drink your coffee'' --

Coffee. ``It's -- cold.'' Maude suddenly looked quite capable of pouring it down her throat. ``I don't want it,'' Sarah said, firmly.

``Oh. Well -- I'll take it down with me as I go.''

Maude swooped up the cup and hiked up her top hoop as if about to take off with a racing start. At the door she turned back, her Roman nose looking very long now and satiric. ``I forgot. Ben and Lucien have gone after them. It's just like that book your Northern friend wrote -- except there aren't any ice floes to cross and no bloodhounds.''

``I don't know Mrs. Stowe. What can they do if they find them?''

``They cann't do anything. It's silly, childish, running after them like that. I told Ben so. But of course the paterollers wonn't be of any help, not with everything so upset and that Yankee cavalry outfit they say is running around, God knows where.''