sh mischief.

And what of Florence? Why, safely stowed away at the bottom of her bureau
drawer, under a promiscuous pile of gloves, ribbons, laces and
handkerchiefs, was a big daguerreotype; but as Florence guarded that
drawer most carefully, always keeping the key in her pocket, we are unable
to say anything certain upon the subject. Up to this day we don't know
exactly whose face it was that led Florence to the drawer so many times a
day, but we are safe in saying that it looked frank enough to be Frank
himself!

Here for a time we leave her, and return to Mr. Middleton's where Fanny
was improving each day. Dr. Lacey watched her recovery anxiously, fearing
continually lest some new calamity should happen to take his treasure from
him. Owing to the protracted illness of his father, it became necessary
that he should go back to New Orleans; but as soon as possible he would
return, and then--Fanny could have told you what then, and so, too, could
we, but we prefer keeping you in suspense.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE WEDDING

The autumn months were gone; December had come and "Christmas was coming."
The negroes far and near had counted the days which must pass before their
expected holidays. In Uncle Joshua's kitchen there was much talking and
laughing, fixing and fussing, and some crying. Had you asked the cause of
the crying, you would have been told that Miss Fanny was to be married
Christmas Eve, and the week following she would leave them and start for
New Orleans.

Preparations commenced on a large scale; for Uncle Joshua, a little proud,
it may be, of his handsome house, had determined on a large party. The old
gentleman even went so far as to order for himself a new suit of
broadcloth, saying by way of apology that, "though the jeens coat and
bagging pants did well enough for Josh, they wouldn't answer nohow for the
father of Mrs. Dr. George Lacey."

A week before the wedding Florence, who loved dearly to be in a bustle,
came laden with bandboxes and carpet bags. Hourly through the house rang
her merry laugh, as she flitted hither and thither, actually doing nothing
in her zeal to do everything. She had consented to be bridesmaid on
condition that she should choose her own groomsman, who she said should be
"Uncle Billy," as she always called Mr. William Middleton, "unless
Providence sent her some one she liked better." Whether it were owing to