loe had taken a little room to herself, and cooked her own food. All
blacks are born cooks, I believe, and many a tempting little dainty she
stowed away of a Saturday night, to take up to school to Fannie.
Sometimes it would be a loaf of cake; sometimes a pie or two; sometimes
a few oysters, nicely cooked; for she said "it was poor fare enough
teachers had in boarding schools, and who knew but Miss Fannie might
get quite run down, on that and the hard work together."

Then she would go round her room, picking up the stockings and mending
them, and brushing her little gaiter boots; and then she would take the
comb out of her long hair and part it nicely, and brush it and dress it
all over as well as Madame Marmotte, the French hair dresser, could do.

If Fannie took cold, she'd come and make her some hot tea, and soak her
feet in mustard water, and leave her some nice hot lemonade to drink
when she went away; and if she had a letter to put in the post-office,
or was expecting one, then Chloe was on hand to do the errand, just as
promptly as an express man.

Now she did all this out of sheer love for Fannie, and because she had
been kind to her in her mother's house, and never put on airs and
ordered her about, as some children do.

By and by, Miss Fannie took it into her head to get engaged to be
married.

Chloe didn't half like it;--she was jealous. She was "afraid Massa Hale
wouldn't make a good husband enough. Miss Fannie ought to have a _very
nice one_, because she was such a fine young lady;" and Chloe shook her
woolly head, till her gold hoop ear-rings rung again, and advised Miss
Fannie to "wait a leetle longer." "Time enough yet, when she was only
eighteen, plenty more gemmen; no hurry _yet_ for Miss Fannie."

But Fannie had her own way that time, too, and married "Massa Hale;"
and when Chloe found there was no help for it, she said she would go
and be her cook, "just to look after the dear child a bit, and see that
she had everything she wanted," and that nothing was wasted.

You ought to have seen her in "Miss Fannie's" kitchen, (for she still
kept on calling her Miss Fannie;) with her gay bandanna handkerchief
twisted round her wool, and her neat check apron tied round her waist,
moving round among the shining pots, and pans, and kettles, as
important as if she were the great Mogul; turning out pies and hoe
cakes, and flap-jacks, (and every other Jack, too, for Chloe had no
beaux dangling after _her_, I