Dolf gave a deprecatory wave of the hand, as if the poetry had been unavoidable, and a smile which insinuated that he was capable of still higher flights of fancy, as he said: "Mebbe, mebbe, Miss Elsie--I didn't reserve partic'lar--dese tings takes a pusson onawares mostly." "Now, Dolf," said his master, "try and put my things in some sort of order before the day is over." "Yes, marster; ebery ting dat's wanting shall be toppermost." Elsie laughed unrestrainedly, but Dolf only took that as a compliment, and was immensely satisfied with the impression he had produced. "Don't get up another flirtation with the cook," she said; "she is old enough to be your mother, so old that she's growing rich with hoarding, Dolf." Dolf bowed himself out of the room with much ceremony, and took his way straight towards the lower regions. His brain had always formed numerous projects on the strength of Clorinda's wealth, and he felt it incumbent upon him to have an interview as soon as possible with this elderly heiress. He came upon her in the kitchen hall; she was walking upright as a ramrod with a large tin dish-pan in her hands, and looking forbidding as if she had been the eldest daughter of Erebus. "Dat's de time o' day," thought Dolf; "she is parsimmony just now and no mistake, but here goes for de power of 'suasion." He made her a bow which flattered the sable spinster into a broad smile, and almost made her drop the dish-pan, in the flutter of her delight. "Dolf, Dolf, am dat you?" she exclaimed, growing a shade darker. "Permit me," said Dolf, gracefully, taking the pan from her hand; "it's my expressive delight to serve de fair, and I'se most happy, through dis instrumentation, to renew your honorable acquaintance." He followed this up with another tremendous bow; Clorinda thought it quite time that she should make a show of high breeding likewise. She gave her body a bend and a duck, but unfortunately, Dolf was bowing at the same moment, and their heads met with a loud concussion. A wild giggle from the kitchen door completed Dolf's confusion. He looked that way, and there stood Victoria, the chambermaid, now a spruce mulatto of eighteen, enjoying Clorinda's discomfiture. "De fault was mine," cried Dolf, in his gallantry; "all mine, so dat imperent yaller gal need'n larf herself quite to death." "Imperent yaller gal? am no more yaller den yer is," answered Vic. "Any how yer needn't stand dar a grinning like a monkey, Vic," exclaimed Clorinda, in wrath. "Accidents will recur," said Dolf. "But, laws, Miss Victory, is dat you? I had de pleasure of yer 'quaintance afore me and marster started on our trabels." "I've been alone here eber since," explained Victoria, not proof against his fascinations. "I'm sure yer haint altered a bit, Mr. Dolf." "I guess if yer don't go upstairs miss'll know why," cried Clorinda, sharply. "Jes give me dat pan, Mr. Dolf; I kint wait all day for you to empty it."