d extremely puzzling hair tied up with knots
of corn color, stood in possession over the stove, tending a
fricassee, of which Hazel recognized at once the preparation and
savor as her mother's; while beside her on a cricket, munching cold
biscuit and butter with round, large bites of very white little
teeth, sat a small girl of five of the same color, gleaming and
twinkling as nothing human ever does gleam and twinkle but a little
darkie child.

"Where is Luclarion?" asked Hazel, standing still in the middle of
the floor, in her astonishment.

"I don't know. I'm Damaris, and this one's little Vash. Don't go for
callin' me Dam, now; the boys did that in my last place, an' I left,
don' yer see? I ain't goin' to be swore to, anyhow!"

And Damaris glittered at Hazel, with her shining teeth and her quick
eyes, full of fun and good humor, and enjoyed her end of the joke
extremely.

"Have you come to _stay_?" asked Hazel.

"'Course. I don' mostly come for to go."

"What does it mean, mother?" Hazel asked, hurrying up into her
mother's room.

And then Mrs. Ripwinkley explained.

"But what _is_ she? Black or white? She's got straight braids and
curls at the back of her head, like everybody's"--

"'Course," said a voice in the doorway. "An' wool on top,--place
where wool ought to grow,--same's everybody, too."

Damaris had come up, according to orders, to report a certain point
in the progress of the fricassee.

"They all pulls the wool over they eyes, now-days, an sticks the
straight on behind. Where's the difference?"

Mrs. Ripwinkley made some haste to rise and move toward the
doorway, to go down stairs, turning Damaris from her position, and
checking further remark. Diana and Hazel stayed behind, and laughed.
"What fun!" they said.

It was the beginning of a funny fortnight; but it is not the fun I
have paused to tell you of; something more came of it in the
home-life of the Ripwinkleys; that which they were "waiting to see."

Damaris wanted a place where she could take her little sister; she
was tired of leaving her "shyin' round," she said. And Vash, with
her round, fuzzy head, her bright eyes, her little flashing teeth,
and her polished mahogany skin,--darting up and down the house "on
Aarons," or for mere play,--dressed in her gay little scarlet
flannel shirt-waist, and black and orange striped petticoat,--was
like some "splendid, queer little fire-bug," Hazel said, and made a
surprise and a picture wh