by the doctor to go, and get above the
line of malaria, in the hills. I can make the effort now."

Her grief and loneliness deprived her of the will to refuse him. Roxy
was selected to be her mistress's maid upon the journey, and William
Tilghman and Rhoda Holland were to take them in the family carriage down
to Whitehaven landing for the evening steamer.

Jack Wonnell, in officious zeal to be useful, gathered flowers, and hung
around Teackle Hall to run errands; and, in order not to exasperate
Vesta's husband, appeared bareheaded as the party set off, Milburn's
hat-box being one of the articles of travel, and Milburn vouchsafing
these words to Jack:

"There is a dollar for you, Mr. Wonnell. I rely upon you to watch my old
store and conduct yourself like a man."

"I'll do it," answered Jack, grinning and blushing; "hope I may die!
Good-bye, Miss Vesty. Purty Roxy, don't you forgit me 'way off thair in
Balt'mer. I'll teach Tom to sing your name befo' you ever see me agin."

He waved his arms, with real tears dimming his vision, and Roxy affected
to shed some tears also, as she waved good-bye to Virgie, whose eyes
were turned with wistful pain upon the beautiful face of her mistress
receding down the vista. Vesta threw her a kiss and reclined her head
upon her husband's shoulder.

That evening, an hour before the carriage was to return, Virgie and the
free woman, Mary, walked together down to Milburn's store, to see if
Jack Wonnell was on the watch. As they trode in the soft grass and sand
under the old storehouse they saw the bell-crowned hat--a new one,
brought from the ancient stock that very day--shining glossily on
Wonnell's high, eccentric head, as he sat in the hollow window of the
old storehouse and talked to the mocking-bird, which he was feeding with
a clam-shell full of boiled potato and egg, and some blue haws.

"Tom, say 'Roxy,' an' I'll give ye some, Tommy! Now, boy! 'Roxy, Roxy,
purty Roxy! _purty_ Roxy! Poor ole Jack! poor ole Jack!'"

The bird flew around Wonnell's head, biting at the hat which stood in
such elegant irrelevance to the remainder of his dress, and cried,
"Meshach, he! he! he! Vesty, she! Vesty, Meshach! Vesty, Meshach!" but
said nothing the village vagrant would teach it. He showed the patience
idleness can well afford, and, feeding it a little, or withholding the
food awhile, continued to plead and teach:

"'Roxy, Roxy, purty Roxy! Poor, pore Jack! pore Jack!' Now, Tom, say
'Roxy