Mrs. Nichols, who asked for the
surname, "Jeems what?"

"Jeems Atherton, I reckon, bein' he 'longed to ole Marster Atherton,"
said Polly.

For a time Mrs. Nichols had forgotten her hunger but the habit of
sixty years was not so easily broken and she now hinted so strongly
of the emptiness of her stomach that Aunt Polly, emboldened by her
familiarity, said, "I never wait for the rest, but have my cup of tea
or coffee just when I feel like it, and if missus wouldn't mind
takin' a bite with a nigger, she's welcome."

"Say nothin' about it. We shall all be white in heaven."

"Dat am de trufe," muttered Milly, mentally assigning Mrs. Nichols a
more exalted occupation than that of turning hoe-cakes!

Two cups and saucers were forthwith produced, Milly acting as a
waiter for fear Aunt Polly would leave her seat and so disclose to
view the loaf of bread which had been hidden under the chair! Some
coffee was poured from the pot, which still stood on the stove, and
then the little negroes, amused with the novelty of the thing, ran
shouting and yelling that, "ole miss was eatin' in the kitchen 'long
with Lion, Aunt Polly and the other dogs!"

The coffee being drank, Mrs. Nichols returned to the house, thinking
"what sights of comfort she should take with _Mrs. Atherton_," whom
she pronounced to be "a likely, clever woman as ever was."

Scarcely had she reached her room when the dinner-bell rang, every
note falling like an ice-bolt on the heart of 'Lena, who, though
hungry like her grandmother, still greatly dreaded the dinner,
fearing her inability to acquit herself creditably. Corinda had
finished her hair, and Anna, looking over her wardrobe and coming
upon the black dress which her father had purchased for her, had
insisted upon 'Lena's wearing it. It was of rather more modern make
than any of her other dresses, and when her toilet was completed, she
looked uncommonly well. Still she trembled violently as Anna led her
to the dining-room.

Neither Mrs. Nichols nor Mrs. Livingstone had yet made their
appearance, but the latter soon came languidly in, wrapped in a
rose-colored shawl, which John Jr., said "she wore to give a delicate
tint to her yellow complexion." She was in the worst of humors,
having just been opening her husband's trunk, where she found the
numerous articles which had been stowed away by Nancy Scovandyke.
Very angrily she had ordered them removed from her sight, and at this
very moment the lit