them and mounted to his perch again.

"Oh, no!" returned Elsie brightly, "the rain is needed, and we are well
sheltered from it. Yet I fear it maybe dismal to Evelyn; but, my dear
child, try to keep up your spirits; it does not always rain in this part
of the country."

"Oh, no! of course not, auntie," said the little girl, with a low laugh
of amusement; "and I should not want to live here if it did not rain
sometimes."

"I should think not, indeed," said her uncle. "Well, Eva, we will hope
the warmth of your welcome will atone to you for the inclemency of the
weather."

"Yes," said Elsie, "we want you to feel that it is a home-coming to you
as well as to us."

"Thank you both very much," murmured Evelyn, her voice a little broken
with the thought of her orphaned condition; "I shall try to deserve your
great kindness."

"We have done nothing yet to call for so strong an expression of
gratitude, Eva," remarked her uncle in a lively tone.

In kitchen and dining-room at Fairview great preparations were going
forward; in the one a table was laid, with the finest satin damask,
glittering silver, cut-glass and china; in the other sounds and scents
told of a coming "feast of fat things."

"Clar to goodness! ef it ain't a pourin' down like de clouds was a
wantin' for to drownd Miss Elsie an' de rest!" exclaimed a young mulatto
girl, coming in from a back veranda, whence she had been taking an
observation of the weather; "an' its that dark, Aunt Kitty, yo' couldn't
see yo' hand afo' yo' face."

"Hope Uncle Cuff keep de road and don't upset de kerridge," returned Aunt
Kitty, the cook, opening her oven-door to glance at a fine young fowl
browning beautifully there, and sending forth a most savory smell.

"He'd larf at de wery idear of upsettin' dat vehicle, he would, kase he
tinks dar ain't nobody else knows de road ekal to hisself; but den 'taint
always de folks what makes de biggest boastin' dat kin do de best; am it
now, Lizzie?"

"No, I reckon 'taint, Aunt Kitty; but doan you be a prognosticatin' ob
evil and skearin' folks out deir wits fo' de fac's am 'stablished."

"An' ain't gwine fo' to be 'stablished," put in another voice; "'spose de
family been trabling roun' de worl' to come back an' git harm right afo'
deir own do'? 'Co'se not."

"Hark! dere dey is dis bressed minit', I hear de soun' o' de wheels and
de hosses' feet," exclaimed Aunt Kitty, slamming to her oven-door, laying
down the spoon with which s