With the first and last the little girl was well pleased, but she objected to the middle name, and taking one of the infants upon her lap, she told the story of her beloved teacher, who was dying at Cedar Grove, and asked that the child she held might be called for her. So, baptized by Jessie’s tears, which fell like rain upon its dark and wrinkled face, the babe was christened “Rosa Lee.” The house which Mrs. Lansing termed her country residence (for she always spoke of her brother’s possessions as her own), was a large, double log building, containing nothing very elegant in the way of furniture, but still presenting an air of neatness and comfort; for _Aunt Dinah_, who had charge of it, prided herself upon keeping it neat and clean, as her master was likely to come upon her at any time without warning, and she liked to impress him with her rare qualifications as housekeeper. With Mrs. Lansing, however, she was less pleased, but still as the sister of “Mars’r Richard,” she was entitled to consideration, and now in high turban, and all the dignity of her position, the old lady bustled about from room to room, jingling her keys, kicking the dogs, cuffing the woolly pate of any luckless wight who chanced to be in her way, and occasionally stooping down to kiss little Jessie, who, being of rather a domestic turn, followed her from place to place, herself assisting in spreading the supper table, which, with its snowy cloth, corn cake, iced milk, hot coffee, and smoking steaks, soon presented a most inviting aspect. Relieved of their fears and thinking themselves beyond the reach of danger, Mrs. Lansing and Ada gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the hour, talking and laughing gaily, without a thought of the sick girl they had left behind, and who that night was to have been a bride. Once, indeed, when after sunset they were assembled upon the rude piazza, Ada spoke of her, wondering if she were _dead_, and how long it would be ere Dr. Clayton would marry another! Such is the world, to which Ada formed no exception, for how often do we hear the future companion of a broken-hearted man selected, even before the wife of his bosom is removed forever from his sight! For a long time Mrs. Lansing sat there with Ada and her children, talking on indifferent subjects and occasionally congratulating herself that they were beyond reach of the fever, unless, indeed, Jessie had contracted it by her foolish carelessness! On her lap rested the little golden head of the child, who was humming snatches of “The Happy Land,” a favorite song which her uncle had taught her, and which she had often sung with her teacher, asking numerous questions concerning the better world, where “Saints in glory stand, Bright, bright as day,” and wondering if, when she died, Jesus would take her there to sing, “Worthy is our Saviour King.”