They both broke into happy laughter and he toyed innocently with one of her pinchbeck ear-rings. "O! my sweet familiarity! you knows I knows it! But yo' sof' eyes is shot me th'oo to that estent that I don't know what I does know! I jess sets here in the emba'ssment o' my complacency a won'de'n' what you takes me faw!" "How does you know I's tuck you at all yit; is I said so, Mr. Saampson?--Don't you tetch me, seh! right here in full sight o' de house! You's too late, seh! too late! Come roun' here, C'nelius Leggett, an' he'p me out'n dis-yeh buggy, else I dis'p'int you yit wid my aansweh.--No, seh! you please to take jess de tips o' my fingehs. Now, gimme my bundle o' duds!" the voice rose and fell in coquettish undulations--"now git back into de buggy--yass, seh; dass right. Thaank yo ve'y much, seh. Good-by. Come ag'in." "Miss Daphne, y' ain't ans' my interrogutive yit." "Yass, I is. Dass my answeh--come ag'in." "Is dat all de respondence my Delijah got faw her Saampson?" "Mr. Leggett, I ain't yo' Delijah! Thass fix! I ain't read the scripters in relations to dat young lady faw nuthin! Whetheh you my Saampson remain"--the smile and tone grew bewitching--"faw me to know an faw you to fine out." "Shell I come soon?" murmured Mr. Leggett, for the old field hand and his wife were in sight; and the girl answered in full voice, but winsomely: "As to dat, seh, I leaves you to de freedom o' yo' own compulsions." He moved slowly away, half teased, half elated. At the last moment he cast a final look backward, and Daphne Jane, lagging behind the old couple, tossed him a kiss. * * * * * Quite satisfied to be idle, but not to be alone, the maiden so early contrived with her Leggettstown vivacity to offend the old field hands, that the night found her with only herself and her cogitations for company. However, the house was still new to her, if not in its pantry, at least in its bureaus and wardrobes, and when she had spent the first evening hour counterfeiting the softly whimpered quavers of a little screech-owl that snivelled its woes from a tree in the back-yard, the happy thought came to her innocent young mind to try on the best she could find of her mistress's gowns and millinery. By hook and by crook, combined with a blithe assiduity, she managed to open doors and drawers, and if mimicry is the heaven of aspiring laziness, the maid presently stood unchallenged on the highest plateau of a sluggard's bliss. She minced before the mirror, she sank into chairs, she sighed and whined, took the attitudes given or implied by the other Daphne's portrait down-stairs, and said weary things in a faint, high key.