e with their crimes, and demand Dainty at
their hands.

Old Doctor Platt was jubilant over the part he had played in restoring
Love to his own, and he rubbed his hands in glee as he pictured to
himself the consternation of Mrs. Ellsworth, when she should find
herself accused and detected in her plot against Love and his persecuted
bride.

"Drive fast, Franklin; I'm anxious to see the madame's face when she
sees the master of Ellsworth returning to claim his own!" he exclaimed,
joyously, just as they came abreast of a large frame house standing
close to the road about a mile from the station.

The next moment Love startled them all with a surprised and happy laugh,
exclaiming:

"Look! Look! There's my old black mammy sitting there in the door of
that house! Listen! She is crooning the old nursery song that charmed me
in my babyhood! Let us stop here, Franklin. Perhaps she can tell us
something about my wife--who knows?"

Yes, there sat black mammy in a capacious armchair in Mrs. Peters'
door-way. Across her knees lay a small white bundle, and she was swaying
softly back and forth, while she crooned in a low, loving monotone her
favorite nursery lullaby:

"Byo, baby boy, bye--
Byo, li'l boy!
En 'e run ter 'is mammy,
Ter rock 'im in 'er arms--
Mammy's li'l baby boy!

"Who all de time er frettin' in de middle er de day?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l boy!
Who all de time er gittin' so sleepy--

"Sho'! what am de matter now, and who am dese folks stoppin' deir
kerridge in front o' de gate?" the lullaby ending in these exclamations
of surprise.

Lovelace Ellsworth sprang from the carriage and rushed to the gate.

"Mammy, mammy, don't you know me? Your Marse Love?" eagerly.

"Oh, my good Lord in hebben, am I dreamin', or is it yo'self, Marse
Love, a-laffin' an' a-talkin' lak in de dear old days 'fore you was
shot?" cried the old negress, shaking with joyful excitement.

"It is Love, sure enough, mammy. You may pinch me if you choose, and
you'll find I am your old nursling alive and well. Oh, mammy, I am
searching for my Dainty, my sweet, darling wife!"

"T'ank de good Lord for all His mercies! Dis is de day dat I been
prayin' fo' so long! Oh, Marse Love, I'll he'p yo' fin' yo' darlin'
wife, indeedy I will! But won't you look at my nurse-chile on my knee?
Aine he pritty? See him yaller curls fine as silk, and him skin like de
crumply rose-leaf, an' him big bl