in every tone. The room into which she ushered me was
delightfully cool and shadowy. The ceiling was high, the windows broad
and deep, with green slat-curtains. The rocking-chair and the sofa near
one of the windows were covered with haircloth. The centre-table was a
beautiful piece of mahogany; sitting in the middle of it was a vase of
jonquils. In one corner was a bookcase, empty--ready for my treasures.
Everything was as it should be. I at once expressed my thanks and my
satisfaction, and the good lady retired, saying that I was doubtless
weary, and needed to rest a little.

Left alone, I stood still a moment, and looked about me. The paper upon
the walls represented red-top clover in bloom, and I was glad of this.
Hanging about the room were some old-time portraits in gilt frames, and
some pictures representing historical events. Some dried-up cat-tails
lifted their brown heads from another vase on one end of the tall
mantel. A screen covered with wall-paper stood before the fireplace.
Hastily I lifted it aside, and there--yes, there was the blackened
chimney, the andirons, and the stone-laid hearth. If I have a weak
point, it is an old-fashioned fireplace.

Dinner came just as I finished my toilet, and I followed Mrs. Grundy out
into the broad hall, onto a latticed porch, and into the dining-room.
The good things that were piled upon that table would have fed a
regiment, but all who sat down were my host and hostess, and myself. Mr.
Grundy asked a blessing, and his voice was just as loud as though he
were hallooing to one of his negroes across a field. Surely the Lord
heard that petition. In two minutes my plate was heaped high, and I had
to put back other dishes till a later moment. When he had fairly settled
himself to the business of eating, my host began to talk.

"Walker tells me that you're not used to mixing with people much, Stone,
but I'm afraid it'll be lonely for you 'way out here. We don't have much
company, and of course the niggers don't count. You can ride about the
farm with me if you want to, and mother can hold her own at talking.
When S'lome gets back, things'll be different. She's a whole houseful
herself."

I almost dropped the piece of ham I was conveying to my mouth. Had
Reuben betrayed me! What did this talk of "mother" and "Salome" mean?
When he first spoke the word "mother," I had paid no particular
attention to it; but when coupled with that other name, it took a deeper
meaning.

"