l
soon get a light, and please excuse Alfaretta. I don't understand what
has happened to her. Don't cling to me like that, child. You hinder me."

"Oh, didn't you see--It?" whispered the unhappy little maid, paying no
heed to her mistress's words, but clinging all the closer to her in a
fresh access of terror as she heard, or fancied that she did, footsteps
on the piazza without.

Susanna's anger cooled in a new curiosity, and she said:

"You needn't bother to lead me, Madam Sturtevant, I know the ins an'
outs of this old house pretty well, even if I don't come to it often.
You go right on ahead an' strike a match; an' Alfy Brown, let go her
skirt. Your manners this night ain't none your mistress's teachin', I
know that. They must be some left over from the 'Farm.'"

Now Susanna must have been sorely tried to have reminded the girl of her
unfortunate start in life, and Madam hastened to cover the remark by
saying: "There, that's better!" and rising from the open fireplace where
she had relighted the candle from the carefully covered embers. It had
been so mild until now that only a fragment of fire had been kept upon
the hearth, where, however, it was never permitted to wholly die "from
equinox to equinox." Fortunately for the comfort of the household, there
was woodland sufficient still belonging to the estate to supply all
necessary fuel, and in cold weather this impoverished gentlewoman
enjoyed her blazing wood fires--a luxury which even wealthy people
cannot always command. Miss Maitland made it Moses' business to see that
the Mansion wood-piles were high and broad, long before the autumn came,
and the hardship of splitting smaller sticks for kitchen and kindling
fell upon the reluctant Montgomery.

Susanna watched the candle-lighting with real admiration. Neat as she
was herself, she had never yet attained to that exquisite daintiness
with which Madam Sturtevant did all things; and she now exclaimed, with
keen appreciation:

"My suz! You do beat all! Why, most anybody tryin' to light a taller
candle by wood coals would ha' melted the candle--but you hain't dripped
a drip. Where's the children? I've come for Katy. She's a terr'ble hand
for runnin' away, or, ruther, for not bein' where she should be when
wanted. The wind has riz awful. It don't rain none yet, but's goin' to
right off. I didn't think to fetch an umberell an' couldn't have used it
if I had. Not again' this blow. Alfy, you call Katharine, and we'l