ilder,
of the most regular patchwork, and kept, in spite of the owner's
non-residence, in perfect order. The strange thing was that this fair
and stately place, basking in the sunshine of early June, should be left
in complete solitude save for the hermit in the opposite wing, the three
children, and the girl, who felt as though in a kind of prison.

The sun was too hot for Aurelia to go out of doors till late in the day,
when the shadow of the house came over the steps. She was sitting on
one, with Amoret nestled in her lap, and was crooning an old German
lullaby of Nannerl's, which seemed to have a wonderful effect in calming
the child, who at last fell into a doze. Aurelia had let her voice die
away, and had begun to think over her strange situation, when she was
startled by a laugh behind her, and looking round, hardly repressed
a start or scream, at the sight of Fay enjoying a game at bo-peep,
with--yes--it actually was--the negro--over the low-sashed door.

"I beg pardon, ma'am," said Jumbo, twitching his somewhat grizzled wool;
"I heard singing, and little missy--"

Unfortunately Amoret here awoke, and with a shriek of horror cowered in
her arms.

"I am so sorry," said Aurelia, anxious not to hurt his feelings. "She
knows no better."

Jumbo grinned, bowed, and withdrew, Fay running after him, for she had
made friends with him during her days of solitude, being a fearless
child, and not having been taught to make a bugbear of him. "The soot
won't come off," she said.

Aurelia had not a moment to herself till Fay had said the Lord's prayer
at her knee, and Amoret, with much persuasion, had been induced to lisp
out--

"Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
Bless the bed I sleep upon;
Four corners to by bed,
Four angles round my head,
One to read and one to write,
And two to guard my soul at night."

Another agony for mammy ensued, nor could Aurelia leave the child till
sleep had hushed the wailings. Then only could she take her little
writing-case to begin her letter to Betty. It would be an expensive
luxury to her family, but she knew how it would be longed for; and
though she cried a good deal over her writing, she felt as if she ought
to make the best of her position, for had not Betty said it was for her
father's sake? No, her tears must not blot the paper, to distress
those loving hearts. Yet ho