ugh I shall forget it by
and by." This first gleam of humor rather became his strange face. "If
you tell your father, it is enough."

"I hope I am doing right," Vesta said, "and now I shall take my hour to
my soul and my Saviour. Sir, do you ever pray?"

Milburn recoiled a little.

"I do not pray like you," he replied; "my prayers are dry things. I do
say a little rhyme over that my mother taught me in the forest."

"Try to pray for me to do right," said Vesta, "that I may not make this
sacrifice, and leave a wounded conscience. And now, sir, farewell. At
nine o'clock go to our church and wait. If I resolve to come, there you
will find the rector, and all the arrangements made. If I do not come, I
think you will see me no more."

"Oh, beautiful spirit," exclaimed her lover, "oppress me not with that
fear!"

"If another way is made plain to me," Vesta said, "I shall go that way.
If my duty leads me to you again, you will be my master. Sir, though
your errand here was a severe one, I thank you for your sincerity and
the kind consideration you seem to have had for me so long. Farewell."

"Angel! Vesta! Honey!" Milburn cried, "may I kiss you?"

"Not now," she answered, cold as superiority, and interposing her hand.

The door stood wide open, and the slave-girl, Virgie, in it, holding the
Entailed Hat. Milburn, with a shudder, took it, and covered himself, and
departed.

CHAPTER X.

MASTER IN THE KITCHEN.

The kitchen had been a scene of anything but culinary peace and savor
during the long visit of the owner of the hat.

Aunt Hominy and the little darkeys had made three stolen visits to the
hall to peep at the dreadful thing hanging there, as if it were a trap
of some kind, liable to drop a spring and catch somebody, or to explode
like a mortar or torpedo. As hour after hour wore on, and Miss Vesta did
not reappear, and finally rang her bell for tea, Aunt Hominy was beside
herself with superstition.

"Honey," she exclaimed to Virgie, "jess you take in dis yer dried lizzer
an' dis cammermile, an' drap de lizzer in dat ole hat, an' sprinkle de
flo' whar ole Meshach sots wi' de cammermile, an' say 'Shoo!' Maybe
it'll spile his measurin' of Miss Vessy in."

"No, aunty, if old Meshach measured _me_ in, I wouldn't make the family
ashamed before him. Miss Vessy is powerful wise, and maybe she'll get
the better of that wicked hat."

"Yes," said Roxy, "she's good, Aunt Hominy, an' says her prayers every