Читать книгу 'Lena Rivers - Mary Jane Holmes - Страница 18

"Oh, mother, get up quick—the stage has driven up at the gate, and I reckon pa has come," said Anna, bursting into the room where her mother, who was suffering from a headache, was still in bed.

Raising herself upon her elbow, and pushing aside the rich, heavy curtains, Mrs. Livingstone looked out upon the mud-bespattered vehicle, from which a leg, encased in a black and white stocking, was just making its egress. "Oh, heavens!" said she, burying her face again in the downy pillows. Woman's curiosity, however, soon prevailed over all other feelings, and again looking out she obtained a full view of her mother-in-law, who, having emerged from the coach, was picking out her boxes, trunks, and so forth. When they were all found, Mr. Livingstone ordered two negroes to carry them to the side piazza, where they were soon mounted by three or four little darkies, Thomas Jefferson among the rest.

"John, John" said Mrs. Nichols, "them niggers won't scent my things, will they?"

"Don't talk, granny," whispered 'Lena, painfully conscious of the curious eyes fixed upon them by the bevy of blacks, who had come out to greet their master, and who with sidelong glances at each other, were inspecting the new comers.

"Don't talk! why not?" said Mrs. Nichols, rather sharply. "This is a free country I suppose." Then bethinking herself, she added quickly, "Oh, I forgot, 'taint free here!"

After examining the satchel and finding that the night gown sleeve was safe, Mrs. Nichols took up her line of march for the house, herself carrying her umbrella and band-box, which she would not intrust to the care of the negroes, "as like enough they'd break the umberell, or squash her caps."

"The trumpery room is plenty good enough for 'em," thought Corinda, retreating into the kitchen and cutting sundry flourishes in token of her contempt.

The moment 'Lena came in sight, Mrs. Livingstone exclaimed, "Oh, mercy, which is the oldest?" and truly, poor 'Lena did present a sorry figure,

Her bonnet, never very handsome or fashionable, had received an ugly crook in front, which neither her grandmother or uncle had noticed, and of which John Jr. would not tell her, thinking that the worse she looked the more fun he would have! Her skirts were not very full, and her dress hung straight around her, making her of the same bigness from her head to her feet. Her shoes, which had been given to her by one of the neighbors, were altogether too large, and it was with considerable difficulty that she could keep them on, but then as they were a present, Mrs. Nichols said "it was a pity not to get all the good out of them she could."

In front of herself and grandmother, walked Mr. Livingstone, moody, silent, and cross. Behind them was John Jr., mimicking first 'Lena's gait and then his grandmother's. The negroes, convulsed with laughter, darted hither and thither, running against and over each other, and finally disappearing, some behind the house and some into the kitchen, and all retaining a position from which they could have a full view of the proceedings. On the piazza stood Anna and Carrie, the one with her handkerchief stuffed in her mouth, and the other with her mouth open, astounded at the unlooked-for spectacle.

"Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?" groaned Mrs. Livingstone.

"Do? Get up and dress yourself, and come and see your new relations: that's what I should do," answered John Jr., who, tired of mimicking, had run forward, and now rushed unceremoniously into his mother's sleeping-room, leaving the door open behind him.

"John Livingstone, what do you mean?" said she, "shut that door this minute."

Feigning not to hear her, John Jr. ran back to the piazza, which he reached just in time to hear the presentation of his sisters.

"This is Carrie, and this is Anna," said Mr. Livingstone, pointing to each one as he pronounced her name.

Marching straight up to Carrie and extending her hand, Mrs. Nichols exclaimed, "Now I want to know if this is Car'line. I'd no idee she was so big. You pretty well, Car'line?"

Very haughtily Carrie touched the ends of her grandmother's fingers, and with stately gravity replied that she was well.

Turning next to Anna, Mrs. Nichols continued, "And this is Anny. Looks weakly 'pears to me, kind of blue around the eyes as though she was fitty. Never have fits, do you, dear?"

"No, ma'am," answered Anna, struggling hard to keep from laughing outright.

Here Mr. Livingstone inquired for his wife, and on being told that she was sick, started for her room.

"Sick? Is your marm sick?" asked Mrs. Nichols of John Jr. "Wall, I guess I'll go right in and sea if I can't do somethin' for her. I'm tolerable good at nussin'."

Following her son, who did not observe her, she entered unannounced into the presence of her elegant daughter-in-law, who, with a little shriek, covered her head with the bed-clothes. Knowing that she meant well, and never dreaming that she was intruding, Mrs. Nichols walked up to the bedside, saying, "How de do, 'Tilda? I suppose you know I'm your mother—come all the way from Massachusetts to live with you. What is the matter? Do you take anything for your sickness?"

A groan was Mrs. Livingstone's only answer.

"Little hystericky, I guess," suggested Mrs. Nichols, adding that "settin' her feet in middlin' hot water is good for that."

"She is nervous, and the sight of strangers makes her worse. So I reckon you'd better go out for the present," said Mr. Livingstone, who really pitied his wife. Then calling Corinda, he bade her show his mother to her room.

Corinda obeyed, and Mrs. Nichols followed her, asking her on the way "what her surname was, how old she was, if she knew how to read, and if she hadn't a good deal rather be free than to be a slave!" to which Corinda replied, that "she didn't know what a surname meant, that she didn't know how old she was, that she didn't know how to read, and that she didn't know whether she'd like to be free or not, but reckoned she shouldn't."

"A half-witted gal that," thought Mrs. Nichols, "and I guess 'Tilda don't set much store by her." Then dropping into the wooden rocking-chair and laying aside her bonnet, she for the first time noticed that 'Lena was not with her, and asked Corinda to go for her.

Corinda complied, leaving the room just in time to stifle a laugh, as she saw Mrs. Nichols stoop down to examine the hearth-rug, wondering "how much it cost when 'twas new."

We left 'Lena standing on the steps of the piazza.

At a glance she had taken in the whole—had comprehended that there was no affinity whatever between herself and the objects around her, and a wild, intense longing filled her heart to be once more among her native hills. She had witnessed the merriment of the blacks, the scornful curl of Carrie's lip, the half-suppressed ridicule of Anna, when they met her grandmother, and now uncertain of her own reception, she stood before her cousins not knowing whether to advance or run away. For a moment there was an awkward silence, and then John Jr., bent on mischief, whispered to Carrie, "Look at that pinch in her bonnet, and just see her shoes! Big as little sailboats!"

This was too much for Lena. She already disliked John Jr., and now, flying into a violent passion, she drew off her shoes, and hurling them at the young gentleman's head fled away, away, she knew not, cared not whither, so that she got out of sight and hearing. Coming at last to the arbor bridge across the brook in the garden, she paused for breath, and throwing herself upon a seat, burst into a flood of tears. For several minutes she sobbed so loudly that she did not hear the sound of footsteps upon the graveled walk. Anna had followed her, partly out of curiosity, and partly out of pity, the latter of which preponderated when she saw how bitterly her cousin was weeping. Going up to her she said, "Don t cry so, 'Lena. Look up and talk. It's Anna, your cousin."

'Lena had not yet recovered from her angry fit, and thinking Anna only came to tease her, and perhaps again ridicule her bonnet, she tore the article, from her head, and bending it up double, threw it into the stream, which carried it down to the fish-pond, where for two or three hours it furnished amusement for some little negroes, who, calling it a crab, fished for it with hook and line! For a moment Anna stood watching the bonnet as it sailed along down the stream, thinking it looked better there than on its owner's head, but wondering why 'Lena had thrown it away. Then again addressing her cousin, she asked why she had done so?

"It's a homely old thing, and I hate it," answered 'Lena, again bursting into tears. "I hate everybody, and I wish I was dead, or back in Massachusetts, I don't care which!"

With her impressions of the "Bay State," where her mother said folks lived on "cold beans and codfish," Anna thought she should prefer the first alternative, but she did not say so; and after a little she tried again to comfort 'Lena, telling her "she liked her, or at least she was going to like her a heap."

"No, you ain't," returned 'Lena. "You laughed at me and granny both. I saw you do it, and you think I don't know anything, but I do. I've been through Olney's geography, and Colburn's arithmetic twice!"

This was more than Anna could say. She had no scholarship of which to boast; but she had a heart brimful of love, and in reply to 'Lena's accusation of having laughed at her, she replied, "I know I laughed, for grandma looked so funny I couldn't help it. But I won't any more. I pity you because your mother is dead, and you never had any father, ma says."

This made 'Lena cry again, while Anna continued, "Pa'll buy you some new clothes I reckon, and if he don't, I'll give you some of mine, for I've got heaps, and they'll fit you I most know. Here's my mark—" pointing to a cut upon the door-post. "Here's mine, and Carrie's and brother's. Stand up and see if you don't measure like I do,"

'Lena complied, and to Anna's great joy they were just of a height.

"I'm so glad," said she. "Now, come to my room and Corinda will fix you up mighty nice before mother sees you."

Hand-in-hand the two girls started for the house, but had not gone far when they heard some one calling, "Ho, Miss 'Lena, whar is you? Ole miss done want you." At the same time Corinda made her appearance round the corner of the piazza.

"Here, Cora," said Anna. "Come with me to my room; I want you."

With a broad grin Corinda followed her young mistress, while 'Lena, never having been accustomed to any negro save the one with whom many New England children are threatened when they cry, clung closer to Anna's side, occasionally casting a timid glance toward the dark-browed girl who followed them. In the upper hall they met with Carrie, who in passing 'Lena held back her dress, as if fearing contamination from a contact with her cousin's plainer garments. Painfully alive to the slightest insult, 'Lena reddened, while Anna said, "Never mind—that's just like Cad, but nobody cares for her."

Thus reassured 'Lena followed on, until they reached Anna's room, which they were about to enter, when the shrill voice of Mrs. Nichols fell upon their ears, calling, "'Leny, 'Leny, where upon airth is she?"

"Let's go to her first," said 'Lena, and leading the way Anna soon ushered her into her grandmother's room which, child as she was, 'Lena readily saw was far different from the handsome apartments of which she had obtained a passing glance.

But Mrs. Nichols had not thought of this—and was doubtless better satisfied with her present quarters than she would have been with the best furnished chamber in the house. The moment her granddaughter appeared, she exclaimed, "'Leny Rivers, where have you been? I was worried to death, for fear you might be runnin' after some of them paltry niggers. And now whilst I think on't, I charge you never to go a nigh 'em; I'd no idee they were such half-naked, nasty critters."

This prohibition was a novelty to Anna, who spent many happy hours with her sable-hued companions, never deeming herself the worse for it. Her grandmother's first remark, however, struck her still more forcibly, and she immediately asked, "Grandma, what did you call 'Lena, just now? 'Lena what?"

"I called her by her name, 'Lena Rivers. What should I call her?" returned Mrs. Nichols.

"Why, I thought her name was 'Lena Nichols; ma said 'twas," answered

Anna.

Mrs. Nichols was very sensitive to any slight cast upon 'Lena's birth, and she rather tartly informed Anna, that "her mother didn't know everything," adding that "'Lena's father was Mr. Rivers, and there wasn't half so much reason why she should be called Nichols as there was why Anna should, for that was her father's name, the one by which he was baptized, the same day with Nancy Scovandyke, who's jest his age, only he was born about a quarter past four in the morning, and she not till some time in the afternoon!"

"But where is Mr. Rivers?" asked Anna more interested in him than in the exact minute of her father's birth.

"The Lord only knows," returned Mrs. Nichols. "Little girls shouldn't ask too many questions."

This silenced Anna, and satisfied her that there was some mystery connected with 'Lena. The mention of Nancy Scovandyke reminded Mrs. Nichols of the dishes which that lady had packed away, and anxious to see if they were safe, she turned to 'Lena saying, "I guess we'll have time before dinner to unpack my trunks, for I want to know how the crockery stood the racket. Anny, you run down and tell your pa to fetch 'em up here, that's a good girl."

In her eagerness to know what those weather-beaten boxes contained, Anna forgot her scheme of dressing 'Lena, and ran down, not to call her father, but the black boy, Adam. It took her a long time to find him, and Mrs. Nichols, growing impatient, determined to go herself, spite of 'Lena's entreaties that she would stay where she was. Passing down the long stairway, and out upon the piazza, she espied a negro girl on her hands and knees engaged in cleaning the steps with a cloth. Instantly remembering her mop, she greatly lamented that she had left it behind—"'twould come so handy now," thought she, but there was no help for it.

Walking up to the girl, whose name she did not know, she said,

"Sissy, can you tell me where John is?"

Quickly "Sissy's" ivories became visible, as she replied, "We hain't got any such nigger as John."

With a silent invective upon negroes in general, and this one in particular, Mrs. Nichols choked, stammered, and finally said, "I didn't ask for a nigger; I want your master, John!"

Had the old lady been a Catholic, she would have crossed herself for thus early breaking her promise to Nancy Scovandyke. As it was, she mentally asked forgiveness, and as the colored girl "didn't know where marster was," but "reckoned he had gone somewhar," she turned aside, and seeking her son's room, again entered unannounced. Mrs. Livingstone, who was up and dressed, frowned darkly upon her visitor. But Mrs. Nichols did not heed it, and advancing forward, she said, "Do you feel any better, 'Tilda? I'd keep kinder still to-day, and not try to do much, for if you feel any consarned about the housework, I'd just as lief see to't a little after dinner as not."

"I have all confidence in Milly's management, and seldom trouble myself about the affairs of the kitchen," answered Mrs. Livingstone.

"Wall, then," returned her mother-in-law, nothing daunted, "Wall, then, mebby you'd like to have me come in and set with you a while."

It would be impossible for us to depict Mrs. Livingstone's look of surprise and anger at this proposition. Her face alternately flushed and then grew pale, until at last she found voice to say, "I greatly prefer being alone, madam. It annoys me excessively to have any one round."

"Considerable kind o' touchy," thought Mrs. Nichols, "but then the poor critter is sick, and I shan't lay it up agin her."

Taking out her snuff-box, she offered it to her daughter, telling her that "like enough 'twould cure her headache." Mrs. Livingstone's first impulse was to strike it from her mother's hand, but knowing how unladylike that would be, she restrained herself, and turning away her head, replied, "Ugh! no! The very sight of it makes me sick."

"How you do talk! Wall, I've seen folks that it sarved jest so; but you'll get over it. Now there was Nancy Scovandyke—did John ever say anything about her? Wall, she couldn't bear snuff till after her disappointment—John told you, I suppose?"

"No, madam, my husband has never told me anything concerning his eastern friends, neither do I wish to hear anything of them," returned Mrs. Livingstone, her patience on the point of giving out.

"Never told you nothin' about Nancy Scovandyke! If that don't beat all! Why, he was——"

She was prevented from finishing the sentence, which would undoubtedly have raised a domestic breeze, when Anna came to tell her that the trunks were carried to her room.

"I'll come right up then," said she, adding, more to herself than any one else, "If I ain't mistaken, I've got a little paper of saffron somewhere, which I mean to steep for 'Tilda. Her skin looks desput jandissy!"

When Mr. Livingstone again entered his wife's room, he found her in a collapsed state of anger and mortification.

"John Nichols," said she, with a strong emphasis on the first word, which sounded very much like Jarn, "do you mean to kill me by bringing that vulgar, ignorant thing here, walking into my room without knocking—calling me 'Tilda, and prating about Nancy somebody——"

John started. His wife knew nothing of his affaire du coeur with Miss Nancy, and for his own peace of mind 't was desirable that she should not. Mentally resolving to give her a few hints, he endeavored to conciliate his wife, by saying that he knew "his mother was troublesome, but she must try not to notice her oddities."

"I wonder how I can help it, when she forces herself upon me continually," returned his wife. "I must either deep the doors locked, or live in constant terror."

"It's bad, I know," said he, smoothing her glossy hair, "but then, she's old, you know. Have you seen 'Lena?"

"No, neither do I wish to, if she's at all like her grandmother," answered Mrs. Livingstone.

"She's handsome," suggested Mr. Livingstone.

"Pshaw! handsome!" repeated his wife, scornfully, while he replied, "Yes, handsomer than either of our daughters, and with the same advantages, I've no doubt she'd surpass them both."

"Those advantages, then, she shall never have," returned Mrs. Livingstone, already jealous of a child she had only seen at a distance.

Mr. Livingstone made no reply, but felt that he'd made a mistake in praising 'Lena, in whom he began to feel a degree of interest for which he could not account. He did not know that way down in the depths of his heart, calloused over as it was by worldly selfishness, there was yet a tender spot, a lingering memory of his only sister whom 'Lena so strongly resembled. If left to himself, he would undoubtedly have taken pride in seeing his niece improve, and as it was, he determined that she should at home receive the same instruction that his daughters did. Perhaps he might not send her away to school. He didn't know how that would be—his wife held the purse, and taking refuge behind that excuse, he for the present dismissed the subject. (So much for marrying a rich wife and nothing else. This we throw in gratis!)

Meantime grandma had returned to her room, at the door of which she found John Jr. and Carrie, both curious to know what was in those boxes, one of which had burst open and been tied up with a rope.

"Come, children," said she, "don't stay out there—come in."

"We prefer remaining here," said Carrie, in a tone and manner so nearly resembling her mother, that Mrs. Nichols could not refrain from saying, "chip of the old block!"

"That's so, by cracky. You've hit her this time, granny," exclaimed John Jr., snapping his fingers under Carrie's nose, which being rather long, was frequently a subject of his ridicule.

"Let me be, John Livingstone," said Carrie, while 'Lena resolved never again to use the word "granny," which she knew her cousin had taken up on purpose to tease her.

"Come, 'Lena, catch hold and help me untie this rope, I b'lieve the crockery's in here," said Mrs. Nichols to 'Lena, who soon opened the chest, disclosing to view as motley a variety of articles as is often seen.

Among the rest was the "blue set," a part of her "setting out," as his grandmother told John Jr., at the same time dwelling at length upon their great value. Mistaking Carrie's look of contempt for envy, Mrs. Nichols chucked her under the chin, telling her "May be there was something for her, if she was a good girl."

"Now, Cad, turn your nose up clear to the top of your head," said

John Jr., vastly enjoying his sister's vexation.

"Where does your marm keep her china? I want to put this with it," said Mrs. Nichols to Anna, who, uncertain what reply to make, looked at Carrie to answer for her.

"I reckon mother don't want that old stuff stuck into her china-closet," said Carrie, elevating her nose to a height wholly satisfactory to John Jr., who unbuttoned one of his waistband buttons to give himself room to laugh.

"Mortal sakes alive! I wonder if she don't," returned Mrs. Nichols, beginning to get an inkling of Carrie's character, and the estimation in which her valuables were held.

"Here's a nice little cupboard over the fireplace; I'd put them here," said 'Lena.

"Yes," chimed in John Jr., imitating both his grandmother and cousin; "yes, granny, put 'em there; the niggers are awful critters to steal, and like enough you'd 'lose 'em if they sot in with marm's!"

This argument prevailed. The dishes were put away in the cupboard, 'Lena thinking that with all his badness John Jr., was of some use after all. At last, tired of looking on, Anna suggested to 'Lena, who did not seem to be helping matters forward much, that the should go and be dressed up as had been first proposed. Readily divining her sister's intention, Carrie ran with it to her mother, who sent back word that "'Lena must mind her own affairs, and let Anna's dresses alone!"

This undeserved thrust made 'Lena cry, while Anna declared "her mother never said any such thing," which Carrie understood as an insinuation that she had told a falsehood. Accordingly a quarrel of words ensued between the two sisters, which was finally quelled by John Jr., who called to Carrie "to come down, as she'd got a letter from Durward Bellmont."

Durward! How that name made 'Lena's heart leap! Was it her Durward—the boy in the cars? She almost hoped not, for somehow the idea of his writing to Carrie was not a pleasant one. At last summoning courage, she asked Anna who he was, and was told that he lived in Louisville with his stepfather, Mr. Graham, and that Carrie about two months before had met him in Frankfort at Colonel Douglass's, where she was in the habit of visiting. "Colonel Douglass," continued Anna, "has got a right nice little girl whose name is Nellie. Then there's Mabel Ross, a sort of cousin, who lives with them part of the time. She's an orphan and a great heiress. You mustn't tell anybody for the world, but I overheard ma say that she wanted John to marry Mabel, she's so rich—but pshaw! he won't for she's awful babyish and ugly looking. Captain Atherton is related to Nellie, and during the holidays she and Mabel are coming up to spend a week, and I'll bet Durward is coming too. Cad teased him, and he said may be he would if he didn't go to college this fall. I'll run down and see."

Soon returning, she brought the news that it was as she had conjectured. Durward, who was now travelling, was not going to college until the next fall and at Christmas he was coming to the country with his cousin.

"Oh, I'm so glad," said Anna. "We'll have a time, for ma'll invite them here, of course. Cad thinks a heap of Durward, and I want so bad to see him. Don't you?"

'Lena made no direct reply, for much as she would like to see her compagnon du voyage, she felt an unwillingness to meet him in the presence of Carrie, who she knew would spare no pains to mortify her. Soon forgetting Durward, Anna again alluded to her plan of dressing 'Lena, wishing "Cad would mind her own business." Then, as a new idea entered her head, she brightened up, exclaiming, "I know what I can do. I'll have Corinda curl your hair real pretty. You've got beautiful hair. A heap nicer than my yellow flax."

'Lena offered no remonstrance, and Corinda, who came at the call of her young mistress, immediately commenced brushing and curling the bright, wavy hair which Anna had rightly called beautiful. While this was going on, Grandma Nichols, who had always adhered to the good old puritanical custom of dining exactly at twelve o'clock, began to wonder why dinner was not forthcoming. She had breakfasted in Versailles, but like many travelers, could not eat much at a hotel, and now her stomach clamored loudly for food. Three times had she walked back and forth before what she supposed was the kitchen, and from which a savory smell of something was issuing, and at last determining to stop and reconnoiter, she started for the door.

The northern reader at all acquainted with southern life, knows well that a kitchen there and a kitchen here are two widely different things—ours, particularly in the country, being frequently used as a dining-room, while a southern lady would almost as soon think of eating in the barn as in her cook-room. Like most other planters, Mr. Livingstone's kitchen was separate and at some little distance from the main building, causing grandma to wonder "how the poor critters managed to carry victuals back and to when it was cold and slippery."

When Aunt Milly, who was up to her elbows in dough, saw her visitor approaching, she exclaimed, "Lor'-a-mighty, if thar ain't ole miss coming straight into this lookin' hole! Jeff, you quit that ar' pokin' in dem ashes, and knock Lion out that kittle; does you har? And you, Polly," speaking to a superannuated negress who was sitting near the table, "you just shove that ar' piece of dough, I done save to bake for you and me, under your char, whar she won't see it."

Polly complied, and by this time Mrs. Nichols was at the door, surveying the premises, and thinking how differently she'd make things look after a little.

"Does missus want anything?" asked Aunt Milly, and grandma replied,

"Yes, I want to know if 'tain't nigh about noon."

This is a term never used among the blacks, and rolling up her white eyes, Aunt Milly answered, "You done got me now, sartin, for this chile know nothin' what you mean more'n the deadest critter livin'."

As well as she could, Mrs. Nichols explained her meaning, and Aunt

Milly replied, "Oh, yes, yes, I know now. 'Is it most _dinner time?'

Yes—dinner'll be done ready in an hour. We never has it till two no

day, and when we has company not till three."

Confident that she should starve, Mrs. Nichols advanced a step or two into the kitchen, whereupon Aunt Milly commenced making excuses, saying, "she was gwine to clar up one of these days, and then if Thomas Jefferson and Marquis De Lafayette didn't quit that litterin' they'd cotch it"

Attracted by the clean appearance of Aunt Polly, who, not having to work, prided herself upon always being neatly dressed, Mrs. Nichols walked up to her, and, to use a vulgar expression, the two old ladies were soon "hand-in-glove," Mrs. Nichols informing her of her loss, and how sorry Nancy Scovandyke would feel when she heard of it, and ending by giving her the full particulars of her husband's sickness and death. In return Aunt Polly said that "she was born and bred along with ole Marster Richards, Miss Matilda's father, and that she, too, had buried a husband."

With a deep sigh, Mrs. Nichols was about, to commiserate her, when Aunt Polly cut her short by saying, "'Twant of no kind o' count, as she never relished him much."

"Some drunken critter, I warrant," thought Mrs. Nichols, at the same time asking what his name was.

"Jeems," said Aunt Polly.

This was not definite enough for Mrs. Nichols, who asked for the surname, "Jeems what?"

"Jeems Atherton, I reckon, bein' he 'longed to ole Marster Atherton," said Polly.

For a time Mrs. Nichols had forgotten her hunger but the habit of sixty years was not so easily broken and she now hinted so strongly of the emptiness of her stomach that Aunt Polly, emboldened by her familiarity, said, "I never wait for the rest, but have my cup of tea or coffee just when I feel like it, and if missus wouldn't mind takin' a bite with a nigger, she's welcome."

"Say nothin' about it. We shall all be white in heaven."

"Dat am de trufe," muttered Milly, mentally assigning Mrs. Nichols a more exalted occupation than that of turning hoe-cakes!

Two cups and saucers were forthwith produced, Milly acting as a waiter for fear Aunt Polly would leave her seat and so disclose to view the loaf of bread which had been hidden under the chair! Some coffee was poured from the pot, which still stood on the stove, and then the little negroes, amused with the novelty of the thing, ran shouting and yelling that, "ole miss was eatin' in the kitchen 'long with Lion, Aunt Polly and the other dogs!"

The coffee being drank, Mrs. Nichols returned to the house, thinking "what sights of comfort she should take with Mrs. Atherton," whom she pronounced to be "a likely, clever woman as ever was."

Scarcely had she reached her room when the dinner-bell rang, every note falling like an ice-bolt on the heart of 'Lena, who, though hungry like her grandmother, still greatly dreaded the dinner, fearing her inability to acquit herself creditably. Corinda had finished her hair, and Anna, looking over her wardrobe and coming upon the black dress which her father had purchased for her, had insisted upon 'Lena's wearing it. It was of rather more modern make than any of her other dresses, and when her toilet was completed, she looked uncommonly well. Still she trembled violently as Anna led her to the dining-room.

Neither Mrs. Nichols nor Mrs. Livingstone had yet made their appearance, but the latter soon came languidly in, wrapped in a rose-colored shawl, which John Jr., said "she wore to give a delicate tint to her yellow complexion." She was in the worst of humors, having just been opening her husband's trunk, where she found the numerous articles which had been stowed away by Nancy Scovandyke. Very angrily she had ordered them removed from her sight, and at this very moment the little negroes in the yard were playing with the cracked bellows, calling them a "blubber," and filling them with water to see it run out!

Except through the window, Mrs. Livingstone had not yet seen 'Lena, and now dropping into her chair, she never raised her eyes until Anna said, "Mother, mother, this is 'Lena. Look at her."

Thus importuned, Mrs. Livingstone looked up, and the frown with which she was prepared to greet her niece softened somewhat, for 'Lena was not a child to be looked upon and despised. Plain and humble as was her dress, there was something in her fine, open face, which at once interested and commanded respect, John Jr., had felt it; his father had felt it; and his mother felt it too, but it awoke in her a feeling of bitterness as she thought how the fair young girl before her might in time rival her daughters. At a glance, she saw that 'Lena was beautiful, and that it was quite as much a beauty of intellect as of feature and form.

"Yes," thought she, "husband was right when he said that, with the same advantages, she'd soon outstrip her cousins—but it shall never be—never," and the white teeth shut firmly together, as the cold, proud woman bowed a welcome.

At this moment Mrs. Nichols appeared. Stimulated by the example of 'Lena, she, too, had changed her dress, and now in black bombazine, white muslin cap, and shining silk apron, she presented so respectable an appearance that her son's face instantly brightened.

"Come, mother, we are waiting for you," said he, as she stopped on her way to ask Vine, the fly girl, "how she did, and if it wasn't hard work to swing them feathers."

Not being very bright, Vine replied with a grim, "Dun know, miss."

Taking her seat next to her son, Mrs. Nichols said when offered a plate of soup, "I don't often eat broth, besides that, I ain't much hungry, as I've just been takin' a bite with Miss Atherton?"

"With whom?" asked Mr. Livingstone, John Jr., Carrie, and Anna, in the same breath.

"With Miss Polly Atherton, that nice old colored lady in the kitchen," said Mrs. Nichols.

The scowl on Mrs. Livingstone's face darkened visibly, while her husband, thinking it time to speak, said, "It is my wish, mother, that you keep away from the kitchen. It does the negroes no good to be meddled with, and besides that, when you are hungry the servants will take you something."

"Accustomed to eat in the kitchen, probably," muttered Carrie, with all the air of a young lady of twenty.

"Hold on to your nose, Cad," whispered John Jr., thereby attracting his sister's attention to himself.

By this time the soup was removed, and a fine large turkey appeared.

"What a noble great feller. Gobbler, ain't it?" asked Mrs. Nichols, touching the turkey with the knife.

John Jr., roared, and was ordered from the table by his father, while 'Lena, who stepped on her grandmother's toes to keep her from talking, was told by that lady "to keep her feet still." Along with the desert came ice-cream, which Mrs. Nichols had never before tasted, and now fancying that she was dreadfully burned, she quickly deposited her first mouthful upon her plate.

"What's the matter, grandma? Can't you eat it?" asked Anna.

"Yes, I kin eat it, but I don't hanker arter it," answered her grandmother, pushing the plate aside.

Dinner being over, Mrs. Nichols returned to her room, but soon growing weary, she started out to view the premises. Coming suddenly upon a group of young negroes, she discovered her bellows, the water dripping from the nose, while a little farther on she espied 'Lena's bonnet, which the negroes had at last succeeded in catching, and which, wet as it was, now adorned the head of Thomas Jefferson! In a trice the old lady's principles were forgotten, and she cuffed the negroes with a right good will, hitting Jeff, the hardest, and, as a matter of course, making him yell the loudest. Out came Aunt Milly, scolding and muttering about "white folks tendin' to thar own business," and reversing her decision with regard to Mrs. Nichols' position in the next world. Cuff, the watch-dog, whose kennell was close by, set up a tremendous howling, while John Jr., always on hand, danced a jig to the sound of the direful music.

"For heaven's sake, husband, go out and see what's the matter," said

Mrs. Livingstone, slightly alarmed at the unusual noise.

John complied, and reached the spot just in time to catch a glimpse of John Jr.'s heels as he gave the finishing touch to his exploit, while Mrs. Nichols, highly incensed, marched from the field of battle with the bonnet and bellows, thinking "if them niggers was only her'n they'd catch it!"