the air of a young lady of twenty.

"Hold on to your nose, Cad," whispered John Jr., thereby attracting
his sister's attention to himself.

By this time the soup was removed, and a fine large turkey appeared.

"What a noble great feller. Gobbler, ain't it?" asked Mrs. Nichols,
touching the turkey with the knife.

John Jr., roared, and was ordered from the table by his father, while
'Lena, who stepped on her grandmother's toes to keep her from
talking, was told by that lady "to keep her feet still." Along with
the desert came ice-cream, which Mrs. Nichols had never before
tasted, and now fancying that she was dreadfully burned, she quickly
deposited her first mouthful upon her plate.

"What's the matter, grandma? Can't you eat it?" asked Anna.

"Yes, I kin eat it, but I don't hanker arter it," answered her
grandmother, pushing the plate aside.

Dinner being over, Mrs. Nichols returned to her room, but soon
growing weary, she started out to view the premises. Coming suddenly
upon a group of young negroes, she discovered her bellows, the water
dripping from the nose, while a little farther on she espied 'Lena's
bonnet, which the negroes had at last succeeded in catching, and
which, wet as it was, now adorned the head of Thomas Jefferson! In a
trice the old lady's principles were forgotten, and she cuffed the
negroes with a right good will, hitting Jeff, the hardest, and, as a
matter of course, making him yell the loudest. Out came Aunt Milly,
scolding and muttering about "white folks tendin' to thar own
business," and reversing her decision with regard to Mrs. Nichols'
position in the next world. Cuff, the watch-dog, whose kennell was
close by, set up a tremendous howling, while John Jr., always on
hand, danced a jig to the sound of the direful music.

"For heaven's sake, husband, go out and see what's the matter," said
Mrs. Livingstone, slightly alarmed at the unusual noise.

John complied, and reached the spot just in time to catch a glimpse
of John Jr.'s heels as he gave the finishing touch to his exploit,
while Mrs. Nichols, highly incensed, marched from the field of battle
with the bonnet and bellows, thinking "if them niggers was only her'n
they'd catch it!"

CHAPTER VII.

MALCOLM EVERETT.

It would be tiresome both to ourselves and our readers, were we to
enumerate the many mortifications which both Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone
were compelled to endure from their mother, who gradually came to