the old woman had been equally strenuous. She had shown
the cook in one evening that she knew more about cooking than that
well-satisfied person had ever dreamed any one knew. She had taught
the other maid that she knew by instinct every lurking place of dirt,
however skilfully hidden, and, withal, she had inspired them both with
so much dread of her two-edged tongue that they were doing their best to
conciliate her by a zeal and civility they had never shown before.

For the first time the Graemes knew what comfort was in their new home.

"Well, this is something like home," said Mrs. Graeme that evening as
she sat by the lamp. "Why, I feel like little Ben. He said to-night,
'Mamma, Mammy brought old times with her.'"

"May she live forever!" said Graeme.

In time, however, Mrs. Graeme began to feel that the old woman was
confining herself too closely to the house. She needed some recreation.
She had not even been to church, and Mrs. Graeme knew that this was her
chief delight.

Yes, she would like to go to church, she said, but she did not know
"about dese fine chutches." She did not like much to go on the streets.
"Dere was too many strange folks around for her. Dey did n't keer
nuthin' for her ner she for dem." And it was "de same way, she reckoned,
with de chutches. Dey wuz new niggers, and she did n't had no use for
dem, nor dey for her."

Mrs. Graeme, however, was insistent. Not far off, she had learned, was
a colored church, "Mount Salem," over which the Reverend Amos Johnson
presided with much show of broadcloth and silk hat. He had considerable
reputation as a speaker, and from time to time appeared in the
newspapers as a rather ranting writer on matters with a political
coloring. Mrs. Graeme explained to the old woman that she need have no
more to do with the people than she wished, and the following Sunday she
went herself with her to the door of the church. Before leaving her she
gave her a half-dollar to put in the plate, and asked a solemn-looking
usher to show her a good seat.

When the old woman returned she was interested, but critical. "I'se been
used to chutch all my life," she declared, "but I never saw no fixin's
like dat. Br'er George Wash'n'ton Thomas of Mount Zion was de fancies'
one I ever seen; but he could n't tetch dat man. Why, dey outdoes white
folks!"

"Were n't they nice to you!" asked her mistress.

"Nor 'm', none too nice. Dat one what you spoke to for me wuz gwine to
give