“Very well, then; thank you, uncle, I will,” exclaimed Palma with a light laugh as she danced out of the room and tripped upstairs to her own chamber to begin the work of unpacking and putting away her own and her husband’s wardrobe, in which she was to be assisted by Mrs. Pole, who soon entered the room. Never in her life had Palma been so happy, so lighthearted, so contented with the present, so careless of the future. Even in her bridal days, sickness and the shadow of death had been about her and had sobered, if it had not darkened her delight. But now every cloud was lifted; the present was full of joy, the future full of glad promise, and her own soul overflowing with thankfulness to the Lord. Mrs. Pole was almost equally enchanted. “Now, Poley, we have both reached a haven of peace and safety that is like a heavenly rest. Let us be good and obedient children to our Father and Lord. That is all we can do to show our gratitude,” said Palma, who was kneeling by the side of her great sea trunk, taking out clothing piece by piece and handing them to her attendant, who was standing before the bureau and who folded each article in turn and put it away. “Darling,” answered Mrs. Pole, “I do not think as ever I did such a good and altogether profitable day’s work as I did that precious day when I found you too ill to get out of bed and not a single soul to take care of you; and when I said to myself as the week’s washing at Wilton’s would have to go with my week’s wages into the bargin, and to-morrow would have to take thought for itself, according to Scripture, for once, for I was bound to stop long o’ you an’ nuss you. Lor’, child! I haven’t too often walked by faith instead o’ by sight, but I did it that once, and lo and behold! what’s come outen it! We have never parted from that day to this, and here I am in my old age not only comfortable, but luxurious pervided for.” “You ‘cast your bread upon the waters and after many days it has returned to you,’” said Palma. “And, please the Lord, for the futur’ I do mean to try to be a better woman,” said Mrs. Pole very earnestly. When their task was completed and everything was in order, Palma dropped into an easy-chair, drew a deep breath, and said: “Now, Poley, it is but eleven o’clock, and there are three hours before Uncle Cleve’s early dinner at two, so, if you like, we will send for Aunt Polly—all the colored women who are past their youth are aunts, you know; everybody’s aunts, Cleve says—we will send for Aunt Polly and get her to show us all over our new little kingdom, this big, old house—its dining-room, kitchen and pantry, its storerooms, china and linen closets, its chambers, attics and cuddies, and all. Will you come, Poley, dear?” “And you tired to death and out of breath now? No, my dear. No. You must not exert yourself one bit more to-day. Now mind what I tell you, honey. It is for your good and Its!” replied Mrs. Pole, with a solemn warning shake of her head.