“Oh, we won’t bother about that. Evelyn Byrd is name enough for anybody to bear, and it is thoroughly Virginian. Here comes your breakfast”—as Dick knocked at the door with a tray which Mammy took from his hands and herself brought to the bed in which the girl had been placed after her bath. “We won’t bother about anything now. Just take your breakfast, and then try to sleep a little. You must be utterly worn out.” The girl looked at her wistfully, but said nothing. She ate sparingly, but apparently with the relish of one who is faint for want of food, the which led Dorothy to say:— “It was just like a man to send you on here without giving you something to eat.” “You are very good to me.” That was all the girl said in reply. When she had rested, Dorothy sitting sewing in the meanwhile, the girl turned to her hostess and asked:— “Might I put on my clothes again, now?” “Why, certainly. Now that you are rested, you are to do whatever you wish.” “Am I? I was never allowed to do anything I wished before this time—at least not often.” The remark opened the way for questioning, but Dorothy was too discreet to avail herself of the opportunity. She said only:— “Well, so long as you stay with me, Evelyn, you are to do precisely as you please. I believe in liberty for every one. You heard what Mammy said about me. Dear old Mammy has been trying to govern me ever since I was born, and never succeeding, simply because she never really wanted to succeed. Don’t you think people are the better for being left free to do as they please in all innocent ways?” There was a fleeting expression as of pained memory on the girl’s face. She did not answer immediately, but sat gazing as any little child might, into Dorothy’s face. After a little, she said:— “I don’t quite know. You see, I know so very little. I think I would like best to do whatever you please for me to do. Yes. That is what I would like best.” “Would you like to go with me to my home, and live there with me till you find your friends?” “I would like that, yes. But I think I haven’t any friends—I don’t know.” “Well,” said Dorothy, “sometime you shall tell me about that—some day when you have come to love me and feel like telling me about yourself.” “Thank you,” said the girl. “I think I love you already. But I mustn’t tell anything because of what they made me swear.” “We’ll leave all that till we get to Wyanoke,” said Dorothy. “Wyanoke, you should know, is Doctor Brent’s plantation. It is my home. You and I will go to Wyanoke within a day or two. Just as soon as my husband, Doctor Brent, can spare me.”