'Lena Rivers. Mary Jane Holmes

shouldn't ask too many questions."

      This silenced Anna, and satisfied her that there was some mystery connected with 'Lena. The mention of Nancy Scovandyke reminded Mrs. Nichols of the dishes which that lady had packed away, and anxious to see if they were safe, she turned to 'Lena saying, "I guess we'll have time before dinner to unpack my trunks, for I want to know how the crockery stood the racket. Anny, you run down and tell your pa to fetch 'em up here, that's a good girl."

      In her eagerness to know what those weather-beaten boxes contained, Anna forgot her scheme of dressing 'Lena, and ran down, not to call her father, but the black boy, Adam. It took her a long time to find him, and Mrs. Nichols, growing impatient, determined to go herself, spite of 'Lena's entreaties that she would stay where she was. Passing down the long stairway, and out upon the piazza, she espied a negro girl on her hands and knees engaged in cleaning the steps with a cloth. Instantly remembering her mop, she greatly lamented that she had left it behind—"'twould come so handy now," thought she, but there was no help for it.

      Walking up to the girl, whose name she did not know, she said,

       "Sissy, can you tell me where John is?"

      Quickly "Sissy's" ivories became visible, as she replied, "We hain't got any such nigger as John."

      With a silent invective upon negroes in general, and this one in particular, Mrs. Nichols choked, stammered, and finally said, "I didn't ask for a nigger; I want your master, John!"

      Had the old lady been a Catholic, she would have crossed herself for thus early breaking her promise to Nancy Scovandyke. As it was, she mentally asked forgiveness, and as the colored girl "didn't know where marster was," but "reckoned he had gone somewhar," she turned aside, and seeking her son's room, again entered unannounced. Mrs. Livingstone, who was up and dressed, frowned darkly upon her visitor. But Mrs. Nichols did not heed it, and advancing forward, she said, "Do you feel any better, 'Tilda? I'd keep kinder still to-day, and not try to do much, for if you feel any consarned about the housework, I'd just as lief see to't a little after dinner as not."

      "I have all confidence in Milly's management, and seldom trouble myself about the affairs of the kitchen," answered Mrs. Livingstone.

      "Wall, then," returned her mother-in-law, nothing daunted, "Wall, then, mebby you'd like to have me come in and set with you a while."

      It would be impossible for us to depict Mrs. Livingstone's look of surprise and anger at this proposition. Her face alternately flushed and then grew pale, until at last she found voice to say, "I greatly prefer being alone, madam. It annoys me excessively to have any one round."

      "Considerable kind o' touchy," thought Mrs. Nichols, "but then the poor critter is sick, and I shan't lay it up agin her."

      Taking out her snuff-box, she offered it to her daughter, telling her that "like enough 'twould cure her headache." Mrs. Livingstone's first impulse was to strike it from her mother's hand, but knowing how unladylike that would be, she restrained herself, and turning away her head, replied, "Ugh! no! The very sight of it makes me sick."

      "How you do talk! Wall, I've seen folks that it sarved jest so; but you'll get over it. Now there was Nancy Scovandyke—did John ever say anything about her? Wall, she couldn't bear snuff till after her disappointment—John told you, I suppose?"

      "No, madam, my husband has never told me anything concerning his eastern friends, neither do I wish to hear anything of them," returned Mrs. Livingstone, her patience on the point of giving out.

      "Never told you nothin' about Nancy Scovandyke! If that don't beat all! Why, he was——"

      She was prevented from finishing the sentence, which would undoubtedly have raised a domestic breeze, when Anna came to tell her that the trunks were carried to her room.

      "I'll come right up then," said she, adding, more to herself than any one else, "If I ain't mistaken, I've got a little paper of saffron somewhere, which I mean to steep for 'Tilda. Her skin looks desput jandissy!"

      When Mr. Livingstone again entered his wife's room, he found her in a collapsed state of anger and mortification.

      "John Nichols," said she, with a strong emphasis on the first word, which sounded very much like Jarn, "do you mean to kill me by bringing that vulgar, ignorant thing here, walking into my room without knocking—calling me 'Tilda, and prating about Nancy somebody——"

      John started. His wife knew nothing of his affaire du coeur with Miss Nancy, and for his own peace of mind 't was desirable that she should not. Mentally resolving to give her a few hints, he endeavored to conciliate his wife, by saying that he knew "his mother was troublesome, but she must try not to notice her oddities."

      "I wonder how I can help it, when she forces herself upon me continually," returned his wife. "I must either deep the doors locked, or live in constant terror."

      "It's bad, I know," said he, smoothing her glossy hair, "but then, she's old, you know. Have you seen 'Lena?"

      "No, neither do I wish to, if she's at all like her grandmother," answered Mrs. Livingstone.

      "She's handsome," suggested Mr. Livingstone.

      "Pshaw! handsome!" repeated his wife, scornfully, while he replied, "Yes, handsomer than either of our daughters, and with the same advantages, I've no doubt she'd surpass them both."

      "Those advantages, then, she shall never have," returned Mrs. Livingstone, already jealous of a child she had only seen at a distance.

      Mr. Livingstone made no reply, but felt that he'd made a mistake in praising 'Lena, in whom he began to feel a degree of interest for which he could not account. He did not know that way down in the depths of his heart, calloused over as it was by worldly selfishness, there was yet a tender spot, a lingering memory of his only sister whom 'Lena so strongly resembled. If left to himself, he would undoubtedly have taken pride in seeing his niece improve, and as it was, he determined that she should at home receive the same instruction that his daughters did. Perhaps he might not send her away to school. He didn't know how that would be—his wife held the purse, and taking refuge behind that excuse, he for the present dismissed the subject. (So much for marrying a rich wife and nothing else. This we throw in gratis!)

      Meantime grandma had returned to her room, at the door of which she found John Jr. and Carrie, both curious to know what was in those boxes, one of which had burst open and been tied up with a rope.

      "Come, children," said she, "don't stay out there—come in."

      "We prefer remaining here," said Carrie, in a tone and manner so nearly resembling her mother, that Mrs. Nichols could not refrain from saying, "chip of the old block!"

      "That's so, by cracky. You've hit her this time, granny," exclaimed John Jr., snapping his fingers under Carrie's nose, which being rather long, was frequently a subject of his ridicule.

      "Let me be, John Livingstone," said Carrie, while 'Lena resolved never again to use the word "granny," which she knew her cousin had taken up on purpose to tease her.

      "Come, 'Lena, catch hold and help me untie this rope, I b'lieve the crockery's in here," said Mrs. Nichols to 'Lena, who soon opened the chest, disclosing to view as motley a variety of articles as is often seen.

      Among the rest was the "blue set," a part of her "setting out," as his grandmother told John Jr., at the same time dwelling at length upon their great value. Mistaking Carrie's look of contempt for envy, Mrs. Nichols chucked her under the chin, telling her "May be there was something for her, if she was a good girl."

      "Now, Cad, turn your nose up clear to the top of your head," said

       John Jr., vastly enjoying his sister's vexation.

      "Where does your marm keep her china? I want to put this with it," said Mrs. Nichols to Anna, who, uncertain what reply to make, looked at Carrie to answer for her.

      "I reckon mother don't want that old stuff stuck into her china-closet," said Carrie, elevating her nose