of Rena's plan to teach; she considered it
lowering for Rena, after having been white, to go among the negroes any
more than was unavoidable. This opportunity, however, meant more than
mere employment for her daughter. She had felt Rena's disappointment
keenly, from the practical point of view, and, blaming herself for it,
held herself all the more bound to retrieve the misfortune in any
possible way. If she had not been sick, Rena would not have dreamed
the fateful dream that had brought her to Patesville; for the
connection between the vision and the reality was even closer in Mis'
Molly's eyes than in Rena's. If the mother had not sent the letter
announcing her illness and confirming the dream, Rena would not have
ruined her promising future by coming to Patesville. But the harm had
been done, and she was responsible, ignorantly of course, but none the
less truly, and it only remained for her to make amends, as far as
possible. Her highest ambition, since Rena had grown up, had been to
see her married and comfortably settled in life. She had no hope that
Tryon would come back. Rena had declared that she would make no
further effort to get away from her people; and, furthermore, that she
would never marry. To this latter statement Mis' Molly secretly
attached but little importance. That a woman should go single from the
cradle to the grave did not accord with her experience in life of the
customs of North Carolina. She respected a grief she could not
entirely fathom, yet did not for a moment believe that Rena would
remain unmarried.

"You'd better fetch him roun' to see me, Ma'y B.," she said, "an' let's
see what he looks like. I'm pertic'lar 'bout my gal. She says she
ain't goin' to marry nobody; but of co'se we know that's all
foolishness."

"I'll fetch him roun' this evenin' 'bout three o'clock," said the
visitor, rising. "I mus' hurry back now an' keep him comp'ny. Tell
Rena ter put on her bes' bib an' tucker; for Mr. Wain is pertic'lar
too, an' I've already be'n braggin' 'bout her looks."

When Mary B., at the appointed hour, knocked at Mis' Molly's front
door,--the visit being one of ceremony, she had taken her cousin round
to the Front Street entrance and through the flower garden,--Mis' Molly
was prepared to receive them. After a decent interval, long enough to
suggest that she had not been watching their approach and was not
over-eager about the visit, she answered the knock and admitted them