r am I to be
left entirely to my own devices?" laughed Violet.

"I think my wife is wise enough to be safely so left," he replied in
his usual pleasant tones, and with a look of fond appreciation; "and
perhaps might give some advice to my daughters," he added.

"And now I think of it, perhaps it might be well to consult with them
in regard to some matters," said Violet, and hurried away after the
girls, who had gone up to their sleeping apartments.

"Have not you some preparations to make also, Elsie?" asked Mr.
Dinsmore of his daughter.

"Very little," she answered with a smile; "only some packing that my
maid can do in a few minutes. Ah, there is someone wanting to speak to
me, I think," as an elderly negro came out upon the veranda, bowed to
the company in general, then looked toward her with a sort of pleading
expression, as if he had a petition to offer.

She rose and went to him, asking in kindly inquiring tone, "What is
it, Uncle Joe?"

"Ise come to ax a favor, mistiss," he replied, bowing low. "Ole Aunt
Silvy she mighty porely--mos' likely gwine die befo' many days--an'
she doan pear to feel pow'ful sure ob de road for to git to de bes'
place on de furder side ob de river. She says Miss Elsie knows da way
and maybe she come and 'struct her how to find it."

"Indeed I shall be very glad if I can help her to find it," Elsie
answered with emotion. "I will go with you at once." Then turning to
her son, "Harold," she said, "Uncle Joe reports a woman at the quarter
as very ill; will you go down there with me and see if your medical
skill can give her any relief?"

"Certainly, mother dear;" replied Harold, hastening to her side; and
excusing herself to her guests and taking her son's arm, Mrs. Travilla
at once set off for the quarter, Uncle Joe following respectfully at a
little distance, ready to point out the cabin where the ailing negress
lay.

They found her tossing about on her bed, moaning and groaning. "Oh,
mistiss," she cried as they entered, "you's berry good comin' fo' to
see dis po' ole darky. I'se pow'ful glad for to see you, mistiss, an'
de young massa too. Uncle Joe, set out dat cheer fo' de mistiss and
dat oder one for de young massa."

Uncle Joe hastened to do her bidding, while Harold felt her pulse and
questioned her in regard to her illness.

She complained of misery in her head, misery in her back, and being
"pow'ful weak," finishing up with the query, "Is I gwine die dis day,
suh?"