“Spoiled,” said her husband, laconically. “The mistake was in the emancipation proclamation. _Domestic_ servants ought to have been excepted.” His humor, however, did not appeal to his wife. The case was too serious. “The last one I had told me, that if I did not like what she called coffee--and which I really thought was tea--I 'd better cook for myself. And that other maid, after wearing one of my best dresses, walked off with a brand-new waist. I am only standing the present one till Mammy comes. She says she likes to be called 'Miss Johnson.'” “_I_ paid twenty dollars last week for the privilege of chucking a dusky gentleman down the steps; but I did not begrudge it,” said her husband, cheerfully. “The justice who imposed the fine said to me afterward that the only mistake I had made was in not breaking his neck.” ***** At last, old Caesar was gathered to his dusky fathers, and the chickens having been mainly disposed of, Mr. Graeme went down and brought the old mammy on. He had written the old woman to come by a certain train to Washington where he would meet her, and true to his appointment he met that train. But in the motley throng that filed through the gate was no Mam' Lyddy, and inquiring of the train men showed that no one answering to her description could have been on the train. Just as Graeme was turning away to go to the telegraph desk, one of the gray-clad colored porters, a stout, middle-aged man with a pleasant voice, and the address of a gentleman, approached him, “Were you looking for some one, sir?” “Yes, for an old colored woman, my wife's old mammy.” “Well, I think you may find her in the inner waiting-room. There is an old lady in there, who has been waiting there all day. She came in on the morning train, and said she was expecting you. If you will come with me, I will show you.” “She 's been there all day,” the porter said, with a laugh, as they walked along. “I asked who she was waiting for; but she wouldn't tell me. She said it was none of my business.” “I fancy that 's she,” said Graeme. “Yes, sir, that 's she, sure.” Graeme thanked him. With a chuckle he led the way to where ensconced in a corner, surrounded by bundles and baskets and clad in the deepest black, and with a flaming red bow at her throat, sat Mammy Lyddy. “Here 's the gentleman you were looking for,” said the porter kindly. At sight of Graeme she rose so hastily that many of her bundles rolled on the floor. “Why, Mammy! Why did n't you come on the train I wrote you to come on?” enquired Graeme. “Well, you tole me to come to-day, and I thought I would like to be on time, so I came this morning.” “Now, if you will let me have your tickets, I will attend to everything for you,” said the porter to Graeme.