gan
"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound." She was very short and very fat,
and her kinky hair was plaited into ten tight pigtails, each of which
was bound with a piece of leather shoe-string. At present she sat with
her back propped against the door, her mouth wide open, and slept
peacefully while the flood of her mother's wrath passed over her.

[Illustration: "'MAZIN' GRACE SLEPT PEACEFULLY."]

"Oh, but, Aunt Melvy, won't you please let her come?" begged Nell,
throwing off her sun-bonnet and letting down a tangle of yellow curls.
"I have n't got anybody to play with me. Mother drove to town with
father, and she said I was to get 'Mazin' Grace to stay with me."

"Why, I'se gwine to let her come, honey," said Aunt Melvy, "co'se I is.
I wouldn't mek you cry fer nothin'! Only, I'se gwine to whup her fust.
She ain't 'sponsible on her word, dat's what's de matter wid her. She
done 'low to me she would n't wink her eyeball while I was gone. What
you think I ketch her doin' one time?" Aunt Melvy's voice sank to a
whisper. "She sewed, on a Sunday! She knowed as well as me dat w'en she
gits to heben she'll hab to pick out ebery one ob dem stitches wid her
nose."

Nell looked at the sleeper's round pug-nose and wondered how she would
ever be able to do it. But it was no use thinking of the punishment in
the next world, when an immediate whipping was promised in this;
consequently she turned the whole battery of her eloquence upon Aunt
Melvy, who in the end gave in.

[Illustration: "'AND I AM GOING TO WEAR THE WATERMELON STOCKINGS,' CRIED
NELL."]

Ten minutes later the two little playmates were skipping down the avenue
under the shady old beech-trees where their fathers had played
together in the long ago.

"Is yer maw gwine lemme tek you to de Christian an' Debil Society?"
asked 'Mazin' Grace, as they skirted the house, and made their way into
the back yard.

"Yes," cried Nell, gleefully, "and I am going to wear the watermelon
stockings!"

If 'Mazin' Grace had not been so black, a cloud might have been seen
passing over her face. She was the sharer of all Nell's woes, and of all
but one of her joys. The exception was the possession of the watermelon
stockings.

These were a sort of heirloom among the children of the family, and were
regarded with reverence and pride. They were of a peculiar shade of pink
silk, with clockwork up the sides and sprays of white flowers
embroidered over the instep. A long time ago they