ew.
She was what a few weeks before she would have derided as "citified and
airified." At length Mrs. Graeme could not conceal it from herself any
longer.

One evening as her husband on his return from his office threw himself
on his chair with the evening paper, she brought up the subject.

"Cabell, it is true; you have noticed the change!"

"What? I have no doubt I have." He glanced at his wife to see if she had
on a new dress or had changed the mode of wearing her hair, then gazed
about him rather uneasily to see if the furniture had been shifted
about, or if the pictures had been changed; points on which his wife was
inclined to be particular.

"The change in Mammy! Why, I should never know her for the same person."

"Of course, I have. I have noticed nothing else. Why, she is dressed as
fine as a fiddle. She is 'taking notice.' She 'll be giving Old Caesar
a successor. Then what will you do? I thought that fat darky I have seen
going in at the back gate with a silk hat and a long-tailed coat looked
like a preacher. You 'd better look out for him. You know she was always
stuck on preachers. He is a preacher, sure."

"He is," observed the small boy on the floor. "That 's the Reverend Mr.
Johnson. And, oh! He certainly can blow beautiful smoke-rings. He can
blow a whole dozen and make 'em go through each other. You just ought to
see him, papa."

His father glanced casually at the cigar box on the table.

"I think I will some day," said he, half grimly.

"I never would know her for the same person. Why, she is so changed!"
pursued Mrs. Graeme. "She goes out half the time, and this morning she
was so cross! She says she is as good as I am if she is black. She is
getting like these others up here."

Mr. Graeme flung down the paper he was reading.

"It is these Northern negroes who have upset her, and the fools like the
editor of that paper who have upset them."

Mrs. Graeme looked reflective.

"That preacher has been coming here a good deal lately. I wonder if that
could have anything to do with it!" she said, slowly.

Her husband sniffed.

"I will find out."

At that moment the door opened and in walked Mam' Lyddy and a small boy
in all the glory of five years, and all the pride of his first pair of
breeches. The old woman's face wore an expression of glumness wholly
new to her, and Mr. Graeme's mouth tightened. His wife had only time to
whisper: "Now, don't you say a word to her." But she was too la