"How dare you! how _dare_ you!" cried Elsie, stamping her foot, and
drawing a long, sobbing breath. "Take her down this instant."
"Mr. Spriggs, what is the meaning of this?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, in tones
of calm displeasure; "did I not forbid all cruel punishment on this
estate?"
"I've got to make 'em work; I'm bound they shall, and nothing but the
whip'll do it with this lazy wretch," muttered Spriggs, dropping his whip
and stepping back a little, while two stalwart fellows obeyed Elsie's
order to take the woman down, a murmur at the same time running from lip
to lip, "It's Marse Dinsmore, and our young missus."
Elsie shuddered and wept at sight of the bleeding back and shoulders.
"Cover her up quickly, and take her away where she can lie down and rest,"
she said to the women who were crowding round to greet and welcome
herself. "I will speak to you all afterwards, I'm glad to be here among
you." Then leaning over the sufferer for an instant, with fast-dropping
tears, "Be comforted," she said, in tones of gentle compassion, "you shall
never have this to endure again."
"Come, daughter, speak to these eager people, and let us go into the
house," said Mr. Dinsmore.
"Yes, papa, in one moment."
Drawing herself up to her full height, and flashing one look of scorn and
indignation out of her dark eyes upon the crest-fallen Spriggs, she
addressed him with the air of a queen.
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