ig 'nough
fur any bed."

"Tek 'em, Betty," laughingly urged Mrs. Rogers; "Lucindy an' Lucy air
only too glad ter git 'em off ther hands; they know they'd hev ter
finish thet quilt this wintah, ef them pieces stayed heah, an' they
hate sewin' wussen a mad dog hates watah."

"We want you to have these, too," said Lucy, handing to Betsy a pair of
plaster-of-paris angels. "Lucindy an' me bought 'em of the packman with
our own money. They'll look mighty sweet settin' up on your
mantel-tree. One of 'em's got its wing broke off, but thet won't show
much when it's set facin' the room."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Rogers. "The twins presents you with angels, an'
Tommy an' Buddy contributes live stock." The two little boys advanced,
Tommy with a curly black pup under his arm, Buddy with two half-grown
kittens in his apron.

"Yes, yes, tek 'em," urged Mrs. Rogers; "you'll do me a favor to tek
thet mis-che-vous pup, an' will save them kittens frum a grave in the
hoss-pond; I've done said I'd drown the whole litter. Heah's a sack fur
the kittens, an' you kin put the pup undah this heah kittle; 'twon't
smothah undah thar; an' 'twon't mek no diffruns ef it does."

Every negro on the place, elated and excited by the romantic event of a
runaway marriage, brought offerings. Rache gave gourds and a cymbling
bowl; Eph, a string of red-pepper; the other little darkeys, gifts of
maple sugar, walnuts and hickorynuts; while Aunt Dink presented a large
blue-flowered platter which until now had been the chief ornament of
the chest of drawers in her cabin, and was none the less precious to
her because of the big crack through the middle and the nick out of one
corner.

"The coach and four is now waiting with the bride's outfit already
packed in the boot; so bride, bridesmaid and waiting-woman will please
take their places," laughed Abner, happily, helping Betsy, Susan and
Rache into the sledge. "You've loaded us so heavily with your generous
gifts that I fear the bridal equipage will break down before reaching
the end of the first stage, and bury bride, bridesmaid, waiting-woman
and dowry in a snowbank."

At this moment, out came little Buddy again, carrying a tiny arm-chair
which he had long since outgrown, and insisting that it should make
part of the bridal outfit on the sledge.

"That's right, sonny," said Rogers, as he placed the chair. "They don't
need it yit awhile, but 'tis likely it'll come in handy in a year or
so. Hold on thar a