agged, swaggering, jolly. There were husky,
big-limbed youths, and bold-faced, loud-tongued girls. To-morrow they
would start up-country to some backwoods barony in the kingdom of
cotton, and work till Christmas time. Today was the last in town; there
was craftily advanced money in their pockets and riot in their hearts.
In the gathering twilight they marched noisily through the streets; in
their midst, wide-eyed and laughing almost hysterically, marched Zora.

Mrs. Vanderpool meantime rode thoughtfully out of town toward Cresswell
Oaks. She was returning from witnessing the Mardi Gras festivities at
New Orleans and at the urgent invitation of the Cresswells had stopped
off. She might even stay to the wedding if the new plans matured.

Mrs. Vanderpool was quite upset. Her French maid, on whom she had
depended absolutely for five years or more, had left her.

"I think I want to try a colored maid," she told the Cresswells,
laughingly, as they drove home. "They have sweet voices and they can't
doff their uniform. Helene without her cap and apron was often mistaken
for a lady, and while I was in New Orleans a French confectioner married
her under some such delusion. Now, haven't you a girl about here who
would do?"

"No," declared Harry decisively, but his sister suggested that she might
ask Miss Smith at the colored school.

Again Mrs. Vanderpool laughed, but after tea she wandered idly down the
road. The sun behind the swamp was crimsoning the world. Mrs. Vanderpool
strolled alone to the school, and saw Sarah Smith. There was no
cordiality in the latter's greeting, but when she heard the caller's
errand her attention was at once arrested and held. The interests of her
charges were always uppermost in her mind.

"Can't I have the girl Zora?" Mrs. Vanderpool at last inquired.

Miss Smith started, for she was thinking of Zora at that very instant.
The girl was later than usual, and she was momentarily expecting to see
her tall form moving languidly up the walk.

She gave Mrs. Vanderpool a searching look. Mrs. Vanderpool glanced
involuntarily at her gown and smiled as she did it.

"Could I trust you with a human soul?" asked Miss Smith abruptly.

Mrs. Vanderpool looked up quickly. The half mocking answer that rose
involuntarily to her lips was checked. Within, Mrs. Vanderpool was a
little puzzled at herself. Why had she asked for this girl? She had felt
a strange interest in her--a peculiar human interest since she