"And, dear Cousin Lois, no mother could have been sweeter and more unselfish about the loss of her money than you have been, or more self-sacrificing to come down here with me." "Nonsense, my dear!" said Mrs. Winchester, colouring like a girl of eighteen. Her blush was still beautiful and was her only comfort, except her waist-line. "You know that I love to be where you are. In fact, Carolina, if you knew how I suffered, actually suffered, child, last winter in Boston, when I was separated from you, you would believe me when I say that I cannot live without you. I must be with you. You are all I have in the world,--and the money,--what is money good for except to buy things with? Haven’t I everything I want?" Carolina listened with a beating heart. "Yet, you are even going to have the money back!" she said, with another pressure of Cousin Lois’s hand. "Yes, I really believe I am. That new religion of yours seems to be a sort of magic carpet, to take you anywhere you want to go and to get you everything you want to have." "It brings perfect harmony into your life," said Carolina. "Well, harmony is heaven!" said Mrs. Winchester, emphatically. "Oh, what bliss to be coming home!" breathed Carolina, fervently. "I wonder if any shipwrecked sailor or prodigal son or homesick child ever yearned as cruelly for his father’s house as I yearn for my first sight of Guildford!" Mrs. Winchester turned, a little frightened at the passion in the girl’s tone. She felt that Carolina was unconsciously preparing herself for a bitter disappointment. "How dear those little darkies are!" she cried. "But, oh, did you see what that woman did? She knocked that little boy sprawling! She knocked that child down! Did you ever hear of such cruelty? Do you suppose she could possibly have been his own mother, Cousin Lois?" "Sit down, Carolina, and don’t get so excited. Of course she was his mother. That’s the way coloured women do. It saves talking,--which seems to do no good. I’ve seen old Aunt ’Polyte, in your father’s time at Guildford, come creeping around the corner of her cabin to see if her children were obeying her, and, if she found that they were not, I’ve seen her knock all ten of them down,--some fully six feet away. And such yells!" "Did grandfather allow it?" demanded Carolina, with blazing eyes. "I can fairly see him now, sitting his horse Splendour, draw rein and shake with silent laughter, till he had to take his pipe out of his mouth. It was too common a sight to make a fuss about. Besides, they needed it. Of all the mischievous, obstinate, thick-headed little donkeys you ever saw, commend me to a raft of black children,--Aunt ’Polyte’s in particular. Coloured women are nearly always inhuman on the surface to their own children." "Wasn’t Aunt ’Polyte my father’s black mammy? Wasn’t she kind to the white children in her charge?"