“The Lord send us a little peace now,” said Aunt Milly, tossing her squalling baby up in the air, and telling Thomas Jefferson not to cry, “for his young master was done gone off.” “And I hope to goodness he’ll stay off a spell,” she added, “for thar’s ole Sam to pay the whole time he’s at home, and if ever thar was a tickled critter in this world it’s me, when he clar’s out.” “I’m glad, too,” said Anna, who had been sent to the kitchen to stop the screaming, “and I wish he’d stay ever so long, for I don’t take a bit of comfort when he’s at home.” “Great hateful! I wish he didn’t live here,” said Carrie, gathering up her spools, thimble and scissors, while Mrs. Livingstone, feeling that his absence had taken a load from her shoulders, settled herself upon her silken lounge and tried to sleep. Amid all this rejoicing at his departure, John Jr. put spurs to the fleet Firelock, who soon carried him to Lexington, where, as we have seen, he came unexpectedly upon his father, who, not daring to trust him on horseback, lest he should play the truant, took him into the stage with himself, leaving Firelock to the care of the negro. CHAPTER VI. THE ARRIVAL. “Oh, mother, get up quick—the stage has driven up at the gate, and I reckon pa has come,” said Anna, bursting into the room where her mother, who was suffering from a headache, was still in bed. Raising herself upon her elbow, and pushing aside the rich, heavy curtains, Mrs. Livingstone looked out upon the mud-bespattered vehicle, from which a leg, encased in a black and white stocking, was just making its egress. “Oh, heavens!” said she, burying her face again in the downy pillows. Woman’s curiosity, however, soon prevailed over all other feelings, and again looking out she obtained a full view of her mother-in-law, who, having emerged from the coach, was picking out her boxes, trunks, and so forth. When they were all found, Mr. Livingstone ordered two negroes to carry them to the side piazza, where they were soon mounted by three or four little darkies, Thomas Jefferson among the rest. “John, _John_” said Mrs. Nichols, “them niggers won’t scent my things, will they?” “Don’t talk, granny,” whispered ’Lena, painfully conscious of the curious eyes fixed upon them by the bevy of blacks, who had come out to greet their master, and who with sidelong glances at each other, were inspecting the new comers. “Don’t talk! why not?” said Mrs. Nichols, rather sharply. “This is a free country I suppose.” Then bethinking herself, she added quickly, “Oh, I forgot, ’taint free _here_!” After examining the satchel and finding that the night gown sleeve was safe, Mrs. Nichols took up her line of march for the house, herself carrying her umbrella and band-box, which she would not intrust to the care of the negroes, “as like enough they’d break the umberell, or squash her caps.”