eived her no more than it did any of the others; but she loyally
seconded his assumed cheerfulness, and after they had gathered about the
table, gave them a lively description of her afternoon's outing, ending
with:--

"For, mother dear, you hadn't said just where I might or might not ride,
and I'd never seen the carpet mills, though I now hope to go there
often; and, indeed, I think I would like to work in that busy place,
among all those bright, active girls."

Then her enthusiasm was promptly dashed by her father's exclamation:--

"Amy! Amy Kaye! Never again say such a thing! Let there be no more of
that mill talk, not a word."

Mr. Kaye's tone was more stern than his child had ever heard, and as if
he recognized this he continued, more gently:--

"But I am interested in that silly Bonaparte. I almost wish you had kept
him till I came."

Amy happened to glance at Cleena, who had warned her not to mention the
fact of the strange gentleman calling; nor had she known just when
Fayette went away, though she supposed he had done so after so suddenly
leaving the dining room.

"Why, Goodsoul, you are as beaming as if you had found a treasure."

"Faith, an' I have. Try a bit of the chicken, mistress, now do;" and she
waved the dish toward the lady, with a smile that was more than
cheerful.

"Well, Cleena, it's heartening to see anybody so bright. The work must
have gone finely to-day, and thee have had plenty of time for scrubbing.
No, thank thee; nothing more. Not even those delicious baked apples. The
best apples in the world grow on that old tree by the dairy door, I
believe," replied the mistress, with another half-suppressed sigh.

As she rose to leave the table, she turned toward her husband:--

"I hope thee'll soon be coming upstairs, Cuthbert."

It was noticeable that Cleena paused, tray in hand, to hear the answer,
which was out of common, for the old servant rarely presumed upon the
fact that she was also the confidential friend of her employers.

"Well, after a little, dear; but, first, I must go over to the studio."

"Arrah, musha, but, master! The painting's all right. What for no?
Indeed, then, it's the mistress herself needs more attention this minute
nor any picture ever was drawed."

"Why, Cleena!" exclaimed the lady, in surprise. Such an interference had
never been offered by the devoted creature to the head of the house.

"Asking pardon, I'm sure; though I know I know. I've lighted a fire