ot some o' his mammy's
things I gwine look over; maybe might be something make him shirts or
aprons, an' if there is a clean dress in that poke I--I like to have
it put on 'im 'fore she sees him--Madame Caron, an', an' Mist'ess, o'
course! I like her to see he's worth while."

Then he asked questions about what all had been done in his absence,
and learned there had been company coming and going so much Mahs
Loring had his meals in his own room, "'cause o' the clatter they
made." Margeret had been over at the Pines with Miss Loring to see
about the work already commenced there, and Madame Caron and Miss Lena
and Dr. Delaven just amused themselves.

He learned that the mail had been detained and no one had gone for it,
and, tired though he was, started at once. He had noticed Madame
Caron's mail was of daily importance, and it should not be neglected
by him even if company did make the others forgetful.

He was especially pleased that he had gone, when the postmaster handed
over to him, besides several other letters and papers, a large,
important-looking envelope for the Marquise de Caron--a title
difficult for Pluto to spell; though he recognized it at sight.

The lady herself was on the veranda, in riding garb, when he presented
himself, and she smiled as she caught sight of that special envelope
among the rest.

"Margeret tells me you brought back the boy," she said, glancing up,
after peering in the envelope and ascertaining its contents, "and,
Pluto, you paid me for Zekal when you brought this letter to me--so
the balance is even."

Pluto made no comment--only shook his head and smiled. He could not
comprehend how any letter, even a big one, could balance Zekal.

She retired to her room to examine the other letters, while Pluto
placed the mail for the rest at their several places on the breakfast
table.

Judithe unfolded the large enclosure and gave a sigh of utter content
as her eyes rested on the words there. They conveyed to the Marquise
de Caron, of France, an estate in South Carolina outlined and
described and known as Loringwood. The house was sold furnished as it
stood, and there followed an inventory of contents, excepting only
family china and portraits.

"Not such an unlucky journey, after all, despite the coffins in the
tea cups," and she smiled at the fearful fancies of Louise, as she
laid the paper aside; for the time it had made her forget there were
other things equally important.

There