negro, who, in Colonel Tiffton's kitchen had
indulged rather too freely to insure the safety of his mistress.

Still the horses knew the road, and kept it until they left the main
highway and turned into the fields. Even then they would probably have
made their way in safety, had not their drunken driver persisted in
turning them into a road which led directly through the deepest part of
the creek, swollen now by the melted snow and the vast amount of rain
which had fallen since the sunsetting. Not knowing they were wrong,
'Lina did not dream of danger until she heard Caesar's cry of "Who'a dar,
Sorrel. Git up, Henry. Dat's nothin' but de creek," while a violent
lurch of the carriage sent her to the opposite side from where she had
been sitting.

A few mad plunges, another wrench, which pitched 'Lina headlong against
the window, and the steep, shelving bank was reached, but in endeavoring
to climb it the carriage was upset, and 'Lina found herself in pitchy
darkness. Perfectly sobered now, Caesar extricated her as soon as
possible. The carriage was broken and there was no alternative save for
'Lina to walk the remaining distance home. It was not far, for the scene
of the disaster was within sight of Spring Bank, but to 'Lina,
bedraggled with mud and wet to the skin, it seemed an interminable
distance, and her strength was giving out just as she reached the
friendly piazza, and called on her mother for help, sobbing hysterically
as she repeated her story, but dwelling most upon her ruined dress.

"What will Hugh say? It was not paid for, either. Oh, dear, oh, dear, I
most wish I was dead!" she moaned, as her mother removed one by one the
saturated garments.

The sight of Hugh called forth her grief afresh, and forgetful of her
dishabille, she staggered toward him, and impulsively winding her arms
around his neck, sobbed out:

"Oh, Hugh, Hugh! I've had such a doleful time. I've been in the creek,
the carriage is broken, the horses are lamed, Caesar is drunk,
and--and--oh, Hugh, I've spoiled my dress!"

Laughing merrily Hugh held her off at a little distance, likening her to
a mermaid fresh from the sea, and succeeding at last in quieting her
down until she could give a more concise account of the catastrophe.

"Never mind the dress," he said, good-humoredly, as she kept recurring
to that. "It isn't as if it were new. An old thing is never so
valuable."

Alas, that 'Lina did not then confess the truth. Had she don