CHAPTER XXX. HOW DR. FOX WAS FOOLED.

N ANCY was not likely to turn pale, even if she had been frightened. Really, however, she was not frightened, having considerable nerve.

"Is that you, Massa Fox?" she replied composedly, pushing the boat off at the same time. "Where did you come from?"

"Who have you got with you?" demanded the doctor, in a peremptory tone.

"Lor', doctor, what's the matter? It's my sister Chloe from 'cross the river. She cum over to see me yes'day, and I'm agwine to take her home."

Dr. Fox surveyed the pretended sister critically, and was inclined to believe the story. The dress, the stuffed form, and general appearance certainly resembled Nancy. But he was not satisfied.

"Are you sure that you haven't got one of my runaways in the boat with you?" he asked suspiciously.

Nancy's fat sides shook with laughter.

"One of them crazy critters!" she exclaimed. "Chloe, he thinks you're a crazy critter run away from his 'sylum. Won't Dinah laugh when you tell her!"

Mrs. Kenyon possessed an admirable talent for mimicry, though she had not exercised it much of late years. Now, however, the occasion seemed to call for an effort in that direction, and she did not hesitate. She burst into a laugh, rich and hearty, so like Nancy's that the latter was almost startled, as if she heard the echo of her own amusement. No one who heard it would have doubted that it was the laugh of a negro woman.

The laugh convinced Dr. Fox. He no longer entertained any doubt that it was really Nancy's sister.

"It's all right, Nancy," he said apologetically. "I see I am mistaken. If you see either of the runaways let me know," and he turned his horse from the bank.

Not a word passed between Nancy and her passenger till they had got beyond earshot of the pursuer. Then Nancy began:

"You did dat well, Mis' Kenyon. Ef I hadn't knowed I'd have thought it was ole Chloe herself. Where did you learn dat laugh?"

"I think I might make a pretty good actress, Nancy," said Mrs. Kenyon, smiling. "I knew something must be done as Dr. Fox's suspicions were aroused. But I didn't dare to speak. I was not so sure of my voice."

"Lor', how we fooled Massa Fox!" exclaimed Nancy, bursting once more into a rollicking laugh.

"So we did," said Mrs. Kenyon, echoing the laugh as before.

"You almost frighten me, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy. "I didn't think no one but a nigger could laugh like dat. Are you sure you aint black blood?"

"I think not, Nancy," said Mrs. Kenyon. "I don't look like it, do I?"

"No, Mis' Kenyon; you're as white as a lily; but I can't understand dat laugh nohow."

Presently they reached the other shore, and Nancy securely fastened the boat.

"How far is it to the depot, Nancy?" asked the runaway.

"Only 'bout a mile, Mis' Kenyon. Are you tired?"

"Oh, no; and if I were, I wouldn't mind, so long as I am escaping from that horrible asylum. I can't help thinking of that poor Cleopatra. I wish she might be as fortunate as I, but I am afraid she will be taken back."

"She an' you's different, Mis' Kenyon. She's crazy, an' you aint."

"Then you think I can be trusted out of the doctor's hands?"

"How came you there, anyway, Mis' Kenyon?" asked Nancy curiously.

"It is too long a story to tell, Nancy. It is enough to say that I was put there by a cruel enemy, and that since I have been confined I have met with a great loss."

"Did you lose your money, Mis' Kenyon?" asked Nancy sympathetically.

"It was worse than that, Nancy. My only boy is dead."

"Dat's awful; but brace up, Mis' Kenyon. De Lor' don't let it blow so hard on de sheep dat's lost his fleece."

"I feel that I have very little to live for, Nancy," continued Mrs. Kenyon, in a tone of depression.

"Don't you take it so much to heart, Mis' Kenyon. I've had three chil'en myself, an' I don't know where they is."

"How does that happen, Nancy?"

"When we was all slaves dey was sold away from me, down in Alabama, I reckon, and I never expec' to see any of 'em ag'in."

"That is very hard, Nancy," said Mrs. Kenyon, roused to sympathy.

"So it is, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy, wiping her eyes; "but I hope to see 'em in a better land."

Then Nancy, pausing in her rowing, began to sing in an untrained but rich voice a rude plantation hymn:

"We'se all a-goin',

We'se all a-goin',

We'se all a-goin',

To de Promised Land.

"We shall see our faders.

We shall see our moders,

We shall see our chil'en,

Dead an' gone before us,

In de Promised Land.

"Don't you cry, poor sinner,

Don't you cry, poor sinner,

We'se all a-goin

To de Promised Land."

"It makes me feel better to sing them words, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy; "for it's all true. De Lord will care for us in de Promised Land."

"I am glad you have so much faith, Nancy," said her companion. "Your words cheer me, in spite of myself. For the first time, I begin to hope."

"Dat's right, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy, heartily. "Dat's de way to talk."

They were walking while this conversation took place, and soon they reached the station—a small rude hut, or little better.

A man with a flag stood in front of it, while a gentleman and lady were standing just in the door-way.

Mrs. Kenyon had on the way disencumbered herself of the gown and other disguises which she had worn in the boat, and appeared a quiet, lady-like figure, who might readily be taken for a Southern matron, with a colored attendant.

"When will the next train start, sir?" she asked, addressing the flagman.

"In five or ten minutes."

"Going South?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can I get a ticket of you?"

"The ticket agent is away. You will have to buy one on board the train."

"Very well, sir."

They went into the small depot and waited till the train arrived. Then Mrs. Kenyon bade a hurried good-by to Nancy, pressed another piece of gold into her not unwilling hand, and was quickly on her way.

As the train started she breathed a sigh of relief.

"At last I feel that I am free!" she said to herself. "But where am I going and what is to be my future life?"

They were questions which she could not answer. The future must decide.

Nancy bent her steps toward her humble home, congratulating herself on the success with which their mutual plans had been carried out.

"I wonder how Miss Clopatry is gettin' along," she reflected.

We can answer that question.

Dr. Fox, on his way back, thought he would again visit Nancy's cottage. The two refugees might possibly be in the neighborhood, although he no longer suspected Nancy's connivance with them. He was destined to be gratified and at the same time disappointed.

As he approached the house he caught sight of Cleopatra looking out of the window.

"Is that you, Antony?" she called.

Dr. Fox's face lighted up with satisfaction.

"There they are! I've got them!" he exclaimed, and quickened his horse's pace.

"Open the door, Cleopatra!" he ordered.

She meekly obeyed.

He peered round for her companion, but saw no one else.

"Where is Antony?" asked Cleopatra.

"Where is Mrs. Kenyon?" he demanded sternly.

"Gone away with Nancy," answered Cleopatra simply.

Dr. Fox swore fearfully.

"Then it was she!" he exclaimed, "after all; and I have been preciously fooled. I'd like to wring Nancy's neck!"

"Where is Antony?" asked Cleopatra anxiously.

"He is at the asylum, waiting to see you," said the doctor. "Come with me, and don't keep him waiting!"

That was enough. Poor Cleopatra put on her bonnet at once, and went back with the doctor, only to weep unavailing tears over the disappointment that awaited her.

"I'd rather it was the other one," muttered Dr. Fox. "Who would have thought she was so cunning? Where did she get that laugh? I'd swear it was a nigger!"

For three months Nancy was not allowed any work from the asylum, but she contented herself with the fifteen dollars in gold which Mrs. Kenyon had given her.