atisfied not to move further. This was better than the
wilderness any day. Oats like these, and hay such as this, were not to be
found on the plains.

Toward evening the grave butler, with many a deprecatory glance at the
neighborhood, arrived at the door of Mrs. Brady, and delivered himself of
the following message to that astonished lady, backed by her daughter and
her granddaughter, with their ears stretched to the utmost to hear every
syllable:

"Mrs. Merrill Wilton Bailey sends word that her granddaughter, Miss
Elizabeth, has reached her home safely, and will remain with her. Miss
Elizabeth will come sometime to see Mrs. Brady, and thank her for her
kindness during her stay with her."

The butler bowed, and turned away with relief. His dignity and social
standing had not been so taxed by the family demands in years. He was glad
he might shake off the dust of Flora Street forever. He felt for the
coachman. He would probably have to drive the young lady down here
sometime, according to that message.

Mrs. Brady, her daughter, and Lizzie stuck their heads out into the
lamplighted street, and watched the dignified butler out of sight. Then
they went in and sat down in three separate stages of relief and
astonishment.

"Fer the land sakes!" ejaculated the grandmother. "Wall, now, if that
don't beat all!" then after a minute: "The impertinent fellow! And the
impidence of the woman! Thank me fer my kindness to me own grandchild! I'd
thank her to mind her business, but then that's just like her."

"Her nest is certainly well feathered," said Aunt Nan enviously. "I only
wish Lizzie had such a chance."

Said Lizzie: "It's awful queer, her looking like that, too, in that crazy
rig! Well, I'm glad she's gone, fer she was so awful queer it was jest
fierce. She talked religion a lot to the girls, and then they laughed at
her behind her back; and they kep' a telling me I'd be a missionary 'fore
long if she stayed with us. I went to Mr. Wray, the manager, and told him
my cousin was awfully shy, and she sent word she wanted to be excused fer
running away like that. He kind of colored up, and said 'twas all right,
and she might come back and have her old place if she wanted, and he'd say
no more about it. I told him I'd tell her. But I guess her acting up won't
do me a bit of harm. The girls say he'll make up to me now. Wish he would.
I'd have a fine time. It's me turn to have me wages raised, anyway. He
said if Bess and I w