nd if
the turban was awry, it must have happened when Clorinda ran up stairs
in such hot haste. Victoria was sorry: oh, very, very sorry. Would Miss
Clo only overlook it this once, and begin to dress for the ball?

Clorinda's heart swelled like a rising tide under Vic's hypocritical
condolence, but she could not be quite convinced about the turban; she
was a woman of resources, however, and felt that the evil was not
without its remedy. So she kindled an immense quantity of wax-lights,
crowded them before her looking-glass, and at once commenced the
mysteries of a full toilet. The result was so satisfactory when she took
a survey of her pink barege dress, covered with innumerable small
flounces, and the gorgeous white gauze scarf, glittering with silver,
which formed a turban, with long sweeping ends falling to the left
shoulder--that she melted at once towards the girl who had helped to
make her so resplendent.

"Jes see what splendiferous idees that chile Miss Elsie hab, Vic," she
cried, shaking the flounces into place over her enormous crinoline. "Now
'serve she never wore dis sumptious dress more en once, but sent it down
here good as new; 'sides de turban, jes see it shine. Yes, Vic, I
forgives yer, so don't rub dem knuckles in yer eyes no more."

Vic darted away, and in a marvellously short time came back glorious,
her hair braided in with scarlet ribbons, and a dress of several
gorgeous colors fluttering with every joyous movement of her slender
person. She was pluming herself before the glass when Clorinda started
up.

"What am dat?"

"Dat? why it am a carriage. Oh, golly, golly, they'm coming," cried Vic,
wild with delight; and away the two darkies went down the great
staircase and into the hall, where the honors of the house were extended
with astonishing elegance.

Two or three wagons sat down their sable loads, and directly the sounds
of a brace of fiddles rang though the basement story, and the laundry
floor vibrated to the elastic tread of dancers, whose natural love of
music gave grace and spirit to every movement. The two fiddles poured
out triumphant strains of music, and in every particular Clorinda's ball
was a success.

At last Clorinda disappeared from the laundry, and Dolf followed her
into the supper-room, where he fell into raptures over the gorgeousness
of the table.

"Yes," said the housekeeper, modestly, "but how am we to get 'long
without wine; Marse Mellen carried off de keys, and