, narrow skirt, and a plain, white, muslin handkerchief
around her neck, and pinned firmly across her bosom.

She stood upon the rudest sort of porch, built of rough pine boards, and
shaded by hop vines, now withered under the wintry air.

Yet homely as were her attire and surroundings, it seemed as inappropriate
for any one to call the stately Susannah Grandiere "Sukey," as it is for
some writers to refer to England's magnificent Elizabeth as "Queen Bess."

Beside this dignified dame stood a very dainty, delicate and
pathetic-looking little girl of about twelve years of age, who leaned half
fondly, half lazily against the lady's side.

She was Miss Grandiere's niece, shadow and worshiper. Her name was
Rosemary Hedge, and she was the only and orphan child of Miss Grandiere's
widowed sister, Mrs. Dorothy Hedge, the writer of the note.

Rosemary was a slight, tiny, fragile creature, with a mere slip of a
figure, and mites of hands and feet. She had a thin face, a pale rose
complexion, large, light blue eyes, and black hair, which she wore as
children do now--partly banged across her forehead, but mostly hanging
down her shoulders. She was clothed in a prim, blue, calico gown, with a
short waist, high neck, tight sleeves, and a skirt all the way down to her
feet, which were shod in coarse leather shoes over home-knit, gray
stockings.

The child was looking up to her aunt in great anxiety while the latter
read the letter brought by the negro boy, Dan, who stood, torn hat in
hand, holding the bridle of a short, fat, white cob, Jovial by name,
commonly called "Jo."

"Is it for me to go home? Oh, Aunt Sukey, is it for me to go home?"
uneasily inquired the little girl, as the lady folded the letter.

"No, child, no," soothingly replied the lady. "It is only to ask us both
to ride four miles, and walk one, for the sake of eating 'Hot Biscuits,'
in capital letters, for supper."

"She say--Miss Dolly say--how you and Miss Ro'mery mus' ride Jo, and me to
lead him," here explained the ragged negro boy.

"Just like my poor sister Hedge! Well, it does not matter much. I was
thinking about going over to Oldfield to-day; but all the horses here
being at work, I had to give it up. Anyhow, I had certainly made up my
mind to go down on the bay, before the great Force wedding, for as the
ceremony is to be performed at All Faith Church, it will be much more
convenient to attend it from Oldfield than from here. Are the ladies at
Ol