ong raven curls and severe aspect, enters, sailing
in awful state, and heralded by music, from the rattling keys which
agitate themselves in the basket on her arm, drowning the rustle
of her dress. This is Miss Lavinia, the Squire's cousin, who has
continued to live with him since the death of his wife, some years
since.

The severe lady is superintending the movements of the brisk negro
boy who attends to breakfast, when the Squire himself, a fat, rosy,
good-humored old gentleman, in short breeches and ruffles, makes his
appearance, rubbing his hands and laughing.

Then, behind him, rosier than her father, dewy like the morning, and
angelic generally, behold our little heroine--Miss Redbud Summers.

Redbud--she received this pretty name when she was a baby, and as
usually befalls Virginia maidens, never has been able to get rid of
it. Redbud is a lovely little creature, whom it is a delight to look
upon. She has a profusion of light, curling hair, a fine fresh, tender
complexion, deep, mild eyes, and a mouth of that innocent and artless
expression which characterizes childhood. She is about sixteen,
and has just emerged from short dresses, by particular request and
gracious permission from Miss Lavinia, who is major-domo and manager
in general. Redbud is, therefore, clad in the morning-dress of young
ladies of the period. Her sleeves are ornamented with fluttering
ribbons, and her hair is brushed back in the fashion now styled
_Pompadour_, but quite unpowdered. Her ears, for even heroines are
possessed of them, are weighed down by heavy golden ear-rings, and a
cloud of plain lace runs round her neck, and gently rubs her throat.
Pensiveness and laughter chase each other over her fresh little face,
like floating clouds;--she is a true child of the South.

The Squire sits down in the large chair, in the corner of the
fire-place, and takes Miss Redbud on his knee. Then commences a
prattle on the part of the young lady, interrupted by much laughter
from the old gentleman; then the Squire swears profanely at indolent
Caesar, his spaniel, who, lying on the rug before the fire, stretches
his hind feet sleepily, and so makes an assault upon his master's
stockings; then breakfast is ready, and grace being devoutly said,
they all sit down, and do that justice to the meal which Virginians
never omit. Redbud is the soul of the room, however, and even insists
upon a romp with the old gentleman, as he goes forth to mount his
hor