not know her name, and she had but
vaguely heard of queens. "Well--air she to home?"

"Yes; an' Marse Frank, an' Miss 'Lethe, an' Miss Barbara's comin', purty
soon, to see huh."

"Miss Barbarous!" said Madge, aroused by the mere mention of the girl
who, from the start, she had recognized, instinctively, as her real
enemy. It had been thought of her, alone, which had made her bear the
weary burden of the bundle on the long journey from the mountains. "I'd
like to fix a little, 'fore she comes. I got some idees o' fashion from
her, when she was up thar, an' I been workin' ev'ry minute I could
spare, since then, on a new dress. Ain't thar some place I can go to
fashion up before they come?"

The old negro was acutely sympathetic. He disliked Miss Barbara and
liked the mountain girl. His old black head, thick as it was, sometimes,
had quickly recognized the fact that Barbara regarded Madge as one to be
despised, humiliated, while his master treated her with much
consideration and thought highly of her. He did not like the daughter of
Horace Holton any better than he liked the man himself. If he could help
the mountain girl he would. The only place where she could possibly find
privacy, without going to the house, was in the stable with the
race-horse. He would have trusted no one else on earth with her; to
distrust Madge, however, did not once occur to him.

"Missy," he said slowly, "I reckon you can go right in dar wid Queen
Bess."

She was a bit appalled. "Maybe she wouldn't like it," she objected.

"She won't keer if you don't go too close."

"I'm kinder 'feared."

"Don't gib her no chance to kick. You's all right, den."

"Kick!" said the girl, amazed. Kicking did not seem to her to fit the
character of queens.

Neb unlocked the stable door. "Or bite," he added.

"Bite! Dellaw!" the girl exclaimed, still more amazed. How little she
had learned of royalty up in the mountains!

The aged negro threw the door wide open. "Go in, honey, now; go in," he
said.

"I'm skeered!" she said, and tiptoed to the stable door. She peered in
cautiously. Then she turned and faced him with much-puzzled eyes. "I
don't see nothin' but a hoss," she said.

"Uh-huh; dat's Queen Bess." Old Neb stood chuckling, looking at her.

"Queen Bess is Mister Frank's race-hoss!" she cried, delighted by the
revelation. "Well, now, I feel to home." She went into the stable with
her bundle, half-closed the door and then peeped out at Neb. "Y