Turkeys were the young lady's specialty, and on them alone of all the
denizens of the poultry yard did she bestow her personal attention.
From the thrilling moment in early spring when she scribbled the date
of its arrival on the first egg, until the full-grown birds were handed
over to Aunt Rachel to be fattened for the table, the turkeys were her
particular charge, and each morning and afternoon saw her sally forth,
armed with a pan full of curds, or a loaf of brown bread, for her flock.

Her usual attendant, on these occasions, was a little colored boy named
Sawney--the last of a line of Sawneys extending back to the dining-room
servant of Pocahontas's great-grandmother. The economy in nomenclature
on a southern plantation in the olden time was worthy of Dandie Dinmont
himself. The Sawney in question was a grandson of Aunt Rachel, and an
utterly abominable little darkey, inky black, grotesque, and spoiled to
a degree. He was devoted to Pocahontas, and much addicted to following
her about, wherever she would allow him. At feeding-time he always
appeared as duly as the turkeys, for Pocahontas never forgot to put a
biscuit, or a lump of sugar, in her pocket for him.

With the largest black gobbler Sawney was on terms of deadly enmity;
for on more than one occasion had his precious biscuit been plucked
from his unsuspicious hand, and borne away in triumph by the wily bird.
Half of feeding time was usually consumed by Sawney in throwing small
stones at his enemy, who, as he was never by any chance smitten, would
raise his head from time to time and gobble his assailant to scorn.

On this particular morning there had been a lull in the feud. Sawney
had devoured his biscuit unmolested, and had offered no gratuitous
insults to his foe. Pocahontas, having emptied her basket, was
watching her flock with interest and admiration, when Berkeley made his
appearance on the porch with a letter in his hand. He seemed in a
hurry, and called to his sister impatiently.

"Look here, Princess," he said, as she joined him, "here's a letter
from Jim to old Aunt Violet, his 'mammy.' He told me he had promised
the old woman to write to her. It came with my mail this morning, and
I haven't time to go over to Shirley and read it to her; I wish you
would. She's too poorly to come after it herself, so put on your
bonnet and step over there now, like a good girl."

"Step over there, indeed!" laughed Pocahontas. "How insinuatingly yo