“About three miles from this place. “What is Wheatlands? Is it a city or a depot?” “It is a large tobacco plantation owned by relations of mine, who are now in Europe.” “Oh!” “And now, dear, you must get ready for church,” said Roma, and she rang the hand bell, that soon brought Pompous Pirate to her presence. “I wish you to put the white cob to the pony chaise, and have it at the door in half an hour. I shall drive myself and this child to church,” said Miss Fronde. “All right, ma’am,” said the negro, with a deep inclination of his head as he left the room to obey the order. Roma called Owlet to follow, and went upstairs to put on her bonnet and mantle. Independent Owlet buttoned on her own black cashmere jacket, but surmounted it by the inverted funnel hat, and considered herself dressed. “You must wear the little black bonnet, my dear.” “But I hate the black bonnet, and I love my little hat that I have worn for years and years and years—the dear old thing!” Owlet expostulated. “But, my love, you are wearing black for your dear mamma. “Well, I don’t see the sense of it. If poor, dear mamma had gone to the dark world I would wear black all the time, and never be happy no more. But darling, pretty mamma has gone to the bright world, and anybody who wears black for an angel in the bright world can’t be possessed of common sense.” That settled the question. Whenever the Owlet promulgated her ultimatum she got her own way, and so, on this Sunday morning she wore her old double-funneled brow straw hat, looking more like a little devil in a pantomimic scene than ever before. Often Roma felt that she failed in her duty by not rebuking this wayward imp, but there was such sterling truth and honesty in the child, such an inherent constancy to her own convictions of right and wrong, and, withal, such an innocent unconsciousness of giving offense, that Miss Fronde felt that it would be very difficult to set her right. She privately resolved to submit the problem to the judgment of Rev. Dr. Shaw. When Roma and her protégée appeared at the front door they found the pony chaise, with the white cob harnessed to it, standing before the house. Pompous Pirate stood at the horse’s head. “Better leave me dribe yo’ young mist’ess,” said the man. “Not this time, Pontius. Take Ceres to the meeting-house she is so fond of. Now lift Miss Catherine into the chaise,” Roma said. Pompous obeyed. Then Roma got in, sat down, took the reins, and started the cob. Owlet shivered and shook herself with delight as they went rolling along the avenue, between rows of sweet-scented flowering locust trees, and out of the broad lawn gate on to a road through the woods. “Oh! this is dee-licious! I am so glad you didn’t have Uncle Paunchus to drive!” she exclaimed, with a little shudder of joy. “Don’t you like Uncle Pontius?” inquired Roma.