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ust, and I will." She was very quiet for a few moments after that. Then, all at once, something woke up in Sally. Something that had never awakened before. It was a sudden thought and knowledge of what she was herself. "Only just a know-nothing!" she whispered, "a poor little old know-nothing!" and she hung her head. "Can't read! Can't write! Can't spell! Can't anything but just scrub and dub. Oh, he wouldn't speak to me, he wouldn't look at me! How sick my heart feels, and how tired I am!" Then something else woke up in Sally. Something stirred in her heart for the first time. She tugged at her wretched little dress as she repeated: "He said that the lad or the girl that was determined to get learning could find a way. Did you hear _that_, Sally Dukeen?" CHAPTER IV. THE FAIRY PRINCE Very proud, very rich, very aristocratic was Sir Percival Grandison. Very proud and handsome was the Lady Gabrielle Grandison, who came of the ancient house of Earlscourt, England. Proud and well educated was Lucretia, only daughter of Sir Percival and Lady Gabrielle. Rich, haughty, and pretty was Rosamond Earlscourt, niece of Lady Grandison, and a kind of ward, for Rosamond had no parents, and spent much time at Ingleside. Last, but not least, first, in fact, in our story, comes Lionel, only and deeply beloved son of the Grandison household. Lionel, no doubt, like the rest of the family, was proud of his good lineage. He had deep blue eyes, fair hair, a slightly beaky nose, and curved mouth, which gave his features a look of great pride. He walked, too, with the air of a prince, bravely flinging his young crest to the soft airs and stanch patriotism of his native Southern colony. Yet no one called Lionel proud. If anything went wrong at "the quarters," where were the cabins of the black servants, the boys and girls were beginning to go with their troubles to "Mars' Lion" sooner than to "ole Mars" or "Mistis." They were all boys and girls, those black people, until they were past fifty; then they were generally called "mammy," "aunt," or "uncle." And there was not a rood of ground, a horse, colored person, gate or wall, but was an attraction to Maid Sally, so long as it belonged to Ingleside. And were it but said that Master Lionel was coming along, she would manage to lurk near the corner, or catch a glimpse from the window of Sir Percival's grand young son. It was June, hot, balmy, fragrant June
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