u
put it. Aunt Vi'let's cabin is way over at Shirley; half a mile beyond
Jim Byrd's line fence."

"General Smith's line fence, you mean. I wish you'd go, Princess.
There's money in the letter, and I don't want to send it by the
negroes. I promised Jim we'd look after the old woman for them. The
girls want her to come to Richmond, but she won't consent to quit the
old place. She hasn't any children of her own, you know."

Pocahontas extended her hand for the letter. "She ought to go to
Richmond and live with Belle or Nina," she said, slipping it into her
pocket. "She'd die of homesickness way out in California with Susie.
I wonder whether the new people will let her stay at Shirley?"

"Oh, yes; Jim made every arrangement when he found she wouldn't consent
to move. He had an understanding with General Smith about the corner
of land her cabin stands on; reserved it, or leased it, or something.
It's all right."

Always kind, always considerate, thought the girl, wistfully, even amid
the pain and hurry of departure--the sundering of old ties, finding
time to care for the comfort of his old nurse. Good, faithful Jim.

"Have the new people come?" she called after her brother, as he
disappeared within the house.

"I don't know. I rather think they have," he answered. "I noticed
smoke rising from the kitchen chimney this morning. Ask Aunt
Rachel--the negroes are sure to know."

Pausing a moment at the kitchen door to request the servants to inform
her mother that she had walked over to Shirley to read a letter to old
Aunt Vi'let, and would be home in an hour or so, Pocahontas set out on
her expedition, never noticing that little Sawney, with a muttered "Me
d'wine too," was resolutely following her. The way led along a
pleasant country road, as level as a table, which ran, with scarcely a
bend, or turning, straight from the Masons' back gate over to the
ancient home of the Byrd family at Shirley. Overhead the interlacing
branches of oak and magnolia trees made a gorgeous canopy of glossy
green and russet, and the sunshine filtering through the leaves
embroidered the old road with an intricate pattern of light and shadow.
Now and then a holly tree, or bush, bright with berries, made a lovely
dash of color, and glowed all over with suggestions of Christmas and
rejoicing.

Pocahontas sauntered slowly, enjoying the beauty of the morning, and
thinking happy thoughts of the past, in which were mingled memories o