“Them miser’ble young niggers haven’t got no more gumption than just nothin’ at all,” he spluttered. “Guess they’ll mind now, though. Gosh! I lit on ’em like a duck on a June bug. When I fall afoul of ’em guess they think it’s General Washington and the spirit of seventy-six. Miser’ble young bloats!” Harrington could not help smiling as he looked down on the fat imp, who was delivering himself in these figurative terms, with an indescribable swell and swagger. The horses were still pawing and trembling, and Muriel went to their heads, and stood with one gloved hand grasping the reins, and the other patting and stroking the cheeks and noses of the alarmed animals. The driver, who sat on his box, white as a sheet, firmly holding the reins, looked down admiringly on the fearless and graceful sunlit figure, and the negroes standing around, stared with delighted awe. Harrington, meanwhile, was at the carriage door, assuring Emily, who protested that she was not afraid, as indeed she was not, for she was naturally courageous. Presently Muriel came around to the carriage door, her face bright and calm. “Now,” she said, “I will go on to Roux’s. The carriage had better stand here. Emily, will you come with us?” “But you’re not going through that crowd, Muriel!” exclaimed Emily. “Why certainly,” replied Muriel, laughing. “I wouldn’t miss the chance for the world. Going through that crowd is part of my culture. Besides, dear, the crowd won’t eat us.” “I think I will stay here,” returned Emily. “I am not afraid, but this scene is terribly painful to me, and I could hardly bear to go among the poor people. Do you think this will drive some of them off to Canada, Muriel?” “I fear so,” replied Muriel, with a wistful glance at the concourse. Emily colored, and her eyes filled with tears. “Let me give something for them, Muriel,” she faltered, taking out her porte-monnaie. “You may know some of them who want means, and if you do, give them this.” She held out a little roll of bills—fifty dollars. It was money she had intended for shopping, and it was all she had with her. “But, dear Emily,” said Muriel, looking at her with humid eyes, “I do not know that I shall meet with any one who will need it.” “No matter,” replied Emily; “take it with you in case you should. I wish I could help them all.” Muriel took the bills with a tender smile, and Harrington caught the profuse hand, and looked fervently in the face of the giver. At that look Emily cowered, for she thought it the look of love she had wickedly evoked, and her soul quailed in grief and shame. Muriel, too, misread the look, and her spirit rose in generous feeling at the token of a lover’s happiness in his beloved one. “Ah, thou noble one!” she said, with playful sweetness. “Thou rose of the rose-garden! Well, it shall be as you say. Come, Charles; you can carry the basket. John, you will stay here to keep Emily company.”