"They are ugly slang words, and if I were you I should try to forget I ever heard them. Little girls have nothing to do with politics, and you have not told me of whom the Graham children were speaking at the party." "Never mind about names. I looked in the dictionary, but could not find 'scallawag.' I know it means something horrid and vulgar and hateful, and I never will go to another party." Eliza's reply was drowned by the scream of "King Herod"--a lordly peacock that had earned the title from his slaughter of young turkeys and chickens in the poultry yard. Now he trailed his feathers across the walk, came up to the summer-house, and uttered his piercing cry in quick succession. "Something is going to happen. Uncle Aaron says it is a bad sign when Herod squalls at a door." "Something happened a while ago, when a man rode up the avenue and tied his horse. Now he is leaving the steps, and Herod knows he is a stranger. You must not listen to superstitious foolishness from negroes," said Eliza, with a fine scorn of all but her own peculiar pet superstition, kept closely guarded in her heart. Eglah shut the geography, propped her chin on her palms as her elbows rested on the table, and watched the beautiful bird preen his feathers. "Ma-Lila, how old must I be before you will be ready to tell me why grandmother hates my father so?" "Dearie, she does not 'hate' him, and you ought to try not to----" "Don't tell stories, Ma-Lila, because I want always to believe everything you say--and--there! Listen to grandma's bell. Three rings; that is for you." Eliza laid in her work basket the embroidered cambric ruffle she was hemming and, throwing her white apron over her head, went swiftly to the house. Mrs. Maurice sat in the drawing-room, with two newspapers unfolded on her lap, but whether their contents annoyed or gratified her, the cold, quiet face gave no indication. "Is Eglah ready to come and recite her lessons?" "Not yet, madam." "Put away her books; she will be excused from lessons to-day. Judge Kent has married again in Washington, and these papers furnish detailed accounts of the brilliant wedding reception. He has swallowed the gold bait of a widow he met in Europe. She is reputed rich, of course--a Mrs. Nina Herriott--and the bridal pair will go to England for the summer." "Our poor baby! This news will break her heart," replied the foster-mother, whose eyes had filled with tears at thought of the child's suffering. "Yes, she will grieve sorely, but better now than later in life. I have been pondering the best way to break the news to her." "Let me tell her. I think I understand her disposition more thoroughly than anyone else." "You fancy I do not comprehend my own granddaughter?" "I beg your pardon, dear Mrs. Maurice. I mean only that I have watched all her little ways, and she feels less restraint with me than with you; but of course you must choose your own way in this matter."