“Harriot,” Mrs. May interrupted abruptly, “suppose you run upstairs to April and see if you can’t help her with her hair. She’s to take supper at Pettigrew’s.” “But mother,” Harriot began, surprised at this unusual request. “Run along, honey,” her mother insisted. “And send Merry down to me.” Somewhat puzzled, Harriot left the busy room and ran to the floor above, entering her sister’s chamber without ceremony to find April standing, slight, fair and very beautiful, while her brown maid, Merry, laced her stays. Her wonderful blond hair had already been woven into an intricate crown, and, at sight of it, Harriot flopped into a chair. “Mother wants Merry,” she announced. “Don’t ask me why, ’cause I don’t know.” April regarded her young sister for a moment without speaking. “Mother said I was to help with your hair. I knew you wouldn’t let me touch your precious yellow wig,” Harriot went on. “But it wasn’t a bit of use my telling her that. I suppose I might just as well go down again.” “If mother sent you up here, you’d better stay,” April remarked knowingly. “Merry can go as soon as I’m laced.” “All right,” agreed the good-natured Harriot, “though I don’t see why—. Mammy says you’ll have a red nose ‘sho’ as you’he bohn’ if you wear your things so tight.” “And she says you won’t have ‘a toof in yoh haid’ if you eat so much poundcake,” April retorted with a laugh. “You can go down to Old Miss, Merry,” she added to the maid. But the door had hardly closed upon Merry when April turned a serious face to her sister. “What were you blabbing that made mother send you up here?” she demanded. Harriot was genuinely surprised and injured. “Not one earthly thing,” she declared stoutly. “Corinne and I went to the dêpot to hear the news and I had just begun to tell mother about it. I didn’t say a thing in the world.” “What is the news?” April inquired anxiously. “Has Rosecrans—” “I tell you I didn’t hear a thing about the war,” Harriot insisted, much aggrieved. “If I had, it isn’t a crime to mention it, is it? Besides, I’d only begun when mother sent me up to you. There was a man talking about Abe Lincoln and a proclamation, letting the birds free or something. I didn’t understand much of it.” “What have Abe Lincoln’s proclamation to do with us?” said April sharply, more to herself than to her sister. At that moment Mrs. May came into the room, closing the door carefully behind her. “I have no doubt the proclamation is the promised emancipation of the slaves, honey,” she suggested quietly, having overheard April’s question. “I didn’t wish it mentioned before the women downstairs. There is no use unsettling the quarters yet. But they’ll learn of it fast enough; for, from now on, the negroes are free.”