hols took up her line of march for the house,
herself carrying her umbrella and band-box, which she would not
intrust to the care of the negroes, "as like enough they'd break the
umberell, or squash her caps."

"The trumpery room is plenty good enough for 'em," thought Corinda,
retreating into the kitchen and cutting sundry flourishes in token of
her contempt.

The moment 'Lena came in sight, Mrs. Livingstone exclaimed, "Oh,
mercy, which is the oldest?" and truly, poor 'Lena did present a
sorry figure,

Her bonnet, never very handsome or fashionable, had received an ugly
crook in front, which neither her grandmother or uncle had noticed,
and of which John Jr. would not tell her, thinking that the worse she
looked the more fun he would have! Her skirts were not very full,
and her dress hung straight around her, making her of the same
bigness from her head to her feet. Her shoes, which had been given
to her by one of the neighbors, were altogether too large, and it was
with considerable difficulty that she could keep them on, but then as
they were a present, Mrs. Nichols said "it was a pity not to get all
the good out of them she could."

In front of herself and grandmother, walked Mr. Livingstone, moody,
silent, and cross. Behind them was John Jr., mimicking first 'Lena's
gait and then his grandmother's. The negroes, convulsed with
laughter, darted hither and thither, running against and over each
other, and finally disappearing, some behind the house and some into
the kitchen, and all retaining a position from which they could have
a full view of the proceedings. On the piazza stood Anna and Carrie,
the one with her handkerchief stuffed in her mouth, and the other
with her mouth open, astounded at the unlooked-for spectacle.

"Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?" groaned Mrs. Livingstone.

"Do? Get up and dress yourself, and come and see your new relations:
that's what I should do," answered John Jr., who, tired of mimicking,
had run forward, and now rushed unceremoniously into his mother's
sleeping-room, leaving the door open behind him.

"John Livingstone, what do you mean?" said she, "shut that door this
minute."

Feigning not to hear her, John Jr. ran back to the piazza, which he
reached just in time to hear the presentation of his sisters.

"This is Carrie, and this is Anna," said Mr. Livingstone, pointing to
each one as he pronounced her name.

Marching straight up to Carrie and extending her