’Lena’s temper choked her, but forcing it down, she replied: “Why, it is almost three, and I thought perhaps you would want to cool and dress yourself before they came. I can see to the dinner, I know I can. Please let me try.” Somewhat mollified by her niece’s kind manner, Mrs. Livingstone resigned her post and repaired to her own room, while ’Lena, confining her long curls to the top of her head and donning the wide check-apron which her aunt had thrown aside, set herself at work with a right good will. “What dat ar you say?” exclaimed Aunt Milly, lifting her woolly head from her pillow, and looking at the little colored girl, who had brought to her the news that “young miss was in de kitchen.” “What dat ar you tellin’? Miss ’Leny pokin’ ’mong de pots and kittles, and dis ole nigger lazin’ in bed jes like white folks. Long as ’twas ole miss, I didn’t seer. Good ’nough for her to roast, blister, and bile; done get used to it, case she’s got to in kingdom come, no mistake—he!—he! But little Miss ’Leny, it’s too bad to bake her lamb’s-wool hands and face, and all de quality comin’: I’ll hobble up thar, if I can stand.” Suiting the action to the word she got out of bed, and crawling up to the kitchen, insisted upon taking ’Lena’s place, saying, “she could sit in her chair and tell the rest what to do.” For a time ’Lena hesitated, the old woman seemed so faint and weak, but the sound of wheels decided her. Springing to the sideboard in the dining-room, she brought Aunt Milly a glass of wine, which revived her so much that she now felt willing to leave her. By this time the carriage was at the door, and to escape unobserved was now her great object. But this she could not do, for as she was crossing the hall, Anna espied her, and darting forward, seized her around the neck, at the same time dragging her toward Carrie, who, with Durward’s eye upon her, _kissed_ her twice; then turning to him, she said, “I suppose you do not need an introduction to Miss Rivers?” Durward was almost guilty of the rudeness of staring at the strangeness of ’Lena’s appearance, for as nearly as she could, she looked like a fright. Bending over hot stoves and boiling gravies is not very beneficial to one’s complexion, and ’Lena’s cheeks, neck, forehead, and nose were of a purplish red—her hair was tucked back in a manner exceedingly unbecoming, while the broad check-apron, which came nearly to her feet, tended in nowise to improve her appearance. She felt it keenly, and after returning Durward’s salutation, she broke away before Anna or John, Jr., who were both surprised at her looks, had time to ask a question.