and a most sanctimonious
expression of meekness and solemnity over her face, only broken by the
cunning glances which she shot askance from the corners of her eyes.

Miss Ophelia stood silent, perfectly paralyzed with amazement. St.
Clare, like a mischievous fellow as he was, appeared to enjoy her
astonishment; and, addressing the child again, said,

"Topsy, this is your new mistress. I'm going to give you up to her; see
now that you behave yourself."

"Yes, Mas'r," said Topsy, with sanctimonious gravity, her wicked eyes
twinkling as she spoke.

"You're going to be good, Topsy, you understand," said St. Clare.

"O yes, Mas'r," said Topsy, with another twinkle, her hands still
devoutly folded.

"Now, Augustine, what upon earth is this for?" said Miss Ophelia. "Your
house is so full of these little plagues, now, that a body can't set
down their foot without treading on 'em. I get up in the morning, and
find one asleep behind the door, and see one black head poking out from
under the table, one lying on the door-mat,--and they are mopping and
mowing and grinning between all the railings, and tumbling over the
kitchen floor! What on earth did you want to bring this one for?"

"For you to educate--didn't I tell you? You're always preaching about
educating. I thought I would make you a present of a fresh-caught
specimen, and let you try your hand on her, and bring her up in the way
she should go."

"_I_ don't want her, I am sure;--I have more to do with 'em now than I
want to."

"That's you Christians, all over!--you'll get up a society, and get some
poor missionary to spend all his days among just such heathen. But let
me see one of you that would take one into your house with you, and take
the labor of their conversion on yourselves! No; when it comes to that,
they are dirty and disagreeable, and it's too much care, and so on."

"Augustine, you know I didn't think of it in that light," said Miss
Ophelia, evidently softening. "Well, it might be a real missionary
work," said she, looking rather more favorably on the child.

St. Clare had touched the right string. Miss Ophelia's conscientiousness
was ever on the alert. "But," she added, "I really didn't see the need
of buying this one;--there are enough now, in your house, to take all my
time and skill."

"Well, then, Cousin," said St. Clare, drawing her aside, "I ought to
beg your pardon for my good-for-nothing speeches. You are so good,
after all, that there'