“Yo’ see, mist’ess, dey aine no clo’es to ca’y out no mo’. Mammy say as how she aine got no mo’ call to do no mo’ washin’, ’ca’se she’s gwine down to de ole Sarpin’ to serve ’long ob yo’, mammy say. So I ax mammy, mought I come ober yere to wait on yo’ table dis mornin’, an’ mammy say, ‘Yes, it is yo’ duty,’ mammy say. An’ den I yun ober yere an’ ax Mr. ’Pollyon Syphax mought I wait on yo’ table, an’ den I would help him wiv de udders for nuffin, ’ca’se I did wan’ to wait on my own mist’ess and Miss Cafferine. An’ Mr. ’Pollyon Syphax he say I mought, Mr. ’Pollyon did. An’ so yere I is,” said Tom, with a broad grin of satisfaction. “Thank you, Tom. It was very kind and thoughtful of you to come,” said Miss Fronde, and her words filled the boy’s heart to overflowing with delight. And he served with zeal and dispatch. After breakfast Roma took Owlet up to her room, and said: “Now, my dear, the very first thing we have to do this morning is to go down to Pennsylvania Avenue and get you an outfit.” Owlet looked down at her common pink calico frock and white apron critically, and said: “Yes. This was pretty. I liked it very much when Mrs. Annie first gave it to me, but now it is all rumpled up, isn’t it?” “I should think so,” said Roma, with a smile. “Well, you see, I wore it all day Monday, and rode in it all day yesterday, and went to sleep in it on the cars, and tumbled about in it on the cushions, I reckon, so now my frock is a sight to behold. Oh! isn’t it, though?” “Never mind, dear. Cover it with your little coat. That is very decent,” said Roma. “Yes. You see, woolen things don’t rumple like calico, do they, now?” said Owlet as she drew on the little brown coat and carefully buttoned it up before. She next put on her little brown hat and gloves, and was ready to go out by the time Miss Fronde got on her own walking jacket, hat and gloves. They went down together, and out upon the sidewalk. “Would you like to go and see where Aunt Lucy and Tom live?” Roma asked as they left the house. “Oh, wouldn’t I though!” Owlet exclaimed. “Very well, then; we will go.” They turned around the corner, scrambled though the bramble lot, and reached the piece of woods in which Lucy’s bird nest stood. “Oh! ain’t it just like a chicken coop?” merrily demanded Owlet. “Something of the sort,” assented Roma. They entered the cabin, and found Lucy mending old clothes, and Tom, who had returned from the restaurant, was actually helping her, with needle, thread and thimble. As soon as Tom saw the visitors he sneaked his work behind his back, with all a boy’s false shame at being caught at woman’s work. “Mornin’ youn’ mist’ess. Hopes I sees yo’ well, ma’am,” said Lucy, rising and placing two three-legged chairs for her visitors. “How do, Miss Cafferine? Yo’ doane look as peart as yo’ used to did. Been sick?”