ig
mass at the back of her head. At last she put on her clothes, and left her
room, noisily banging the door in closing it.

There was no one in the upper hall. All the chamber doors leading from it
were shut.

"I reckon they are all at breakfast, and the coffee will be stark cold
when I get there. I wish they had waked me up, but I reckon they thought I
was tired. I am never too tired to eat," she muttered to herself as she
went downstairs.

She hurried directly to the dining room, where she found a fine, open fire
burning, and Luce engaged in setting the table.

"Why, Lord!" said the visitor. "Ain't you had breakfast yet? I thought as
I should be ever so late!"

"Dear me, ma'am! Is it you? W'y didn't you ring?" inquired, in turn, the
surprised negro woman.

"Ring? What should I ring for?" demanded the visitor, drawing a chair
before the blazing fire, seating herself, putting her feet upon the
fender, and pulling up the edge of her skirt to toast her shins.

Luce paused in her task of placing the knives and forks to look at the
vandal.

"Why, ma'am, for somebody to come an' wait on yer, an' fix the fire, an'
fetch hot water, an' that," she said.

"Fiddle-de-dee! Wait on your granny!" said the stranger, holding her
chubby hands over the fire, and rubbing them, with a sense of comfort.

But Luce had finished placing the knives and forks, and was now bringing
china from a corner buffet.

"What's that you have got in your hand there? Is it the sugar pot?" asked
the intruder.

"Yes, ma'am," answered the perplexed woman.

"Hold it here to me."

Luce complied, and the visitor took the sugar bowl and poured from it a
handful of white lumps, and returned it, saying:

"I reckon I'll champ this sugar to pass away the time while I'm waiting
for 'em to come down."

"Ain't you afeared it will take away your appetite for breakfast, ma'am?"
inquired Luce.

"Take away my appetite? Ho! ho! ho! That's a good un!" chuckled the guest,
as she crunched the sugar in her strong, white teeth.

"Don't yer think as yer'd be more comferable in de parlor, ma'am? Dere's a
splendid fire burning dere," suggested Luce.

"No. I'm all right here. I feel just as 'snug as a bug in a rug.' Don't
mind, nigger. Go on and do your work."

"Nigger!" Luce had never been so insulted in all her life before, yet she
saw that the good-natured creature who was toasting herself before the
fire did not mean to insult her.

"Say! I s'pose you