as if things too dreadful to be spoken were in her mind. And Mistress
Cory Ann for once forgot to scold, because of a creepy feeling that
seemed travelling up her spine. She did not say a word then, neither was
there danger that she might forget what Mammy Leezer had said.

Mammy lived in her cabin at "the quarters," at Ingleside, but was
getting old and lame, and but little work was required of her. A famous
cook and nurse she had been in her day, but now she had "de rheumatiz"
in her "jints," and a touch of "de asthmy" often at night.

So beyond doing fancy cooking, when there was company at the mansion, or
now and then tending some one who was ill, Mammy sat serenely smoking
her pipe at the cabin door, while knitting socks "for de men folkses."
And she declared herself "a berry comforable ole pusson," in spite of
her aches and pains.

Oh, wonder of wonders! That night, to Sally's astonishment and great
delight, did Mistress Cory Ann tell the child that "for reasons" she
would herself wash the supper dishes, and she added:

"After this, whenever you have worked well through the day, I reckon I
don't care what you do with yourself after supper, only that you need
not stray far away; I might be wanting you."

Supper at Mistress Cory Ann's was not much of an affair, but as she
boarded two or three hired men, plenty of dishes there always were to be
washed, and nearly bedtime it would be before Sally could get cleared
up.

But, now, oh, joy! as soon as that meal was over, Sally was to be free,
free! Up she rushed to her cubby of a room in the attic, caught up a
piece of looking-glass she had found one lucky day up by the great
house, and peering at her own queer little image in the bit of mirror,
she piped, in tones of great glee:

"Did you hear _that_, Sally Dukeen? Did'st hear that, little Mistress
Sally!"

CHAPTER II.

THE GREAT HOUSE

Of all things lovely and full of fascination in Sally's little narrow
world, everything in and about Ingleside stood far and away the highest
in her eyes.

It was her delight, her admiration, her dream by day and her dream by
night. Ingleside! With its wide-spreading mansion, its far-reaching
plantation that was, after all, but a short run for an agile child from
Slipside Row.

Had Sally known the meaning of such a word as "romance," which is a
sweet and wonderful story, or happening, or dream, she would have known
that the chief bewitchment of her life sprang fro