But when Queenie alighted, and going up to her told her that she was Miss Hetherton, granddaughter of Miss Lucy Marshall, who used to live at Magnolia Park, and that she had come to stay, her consternation knew no bounds, and while dropping a courtesy to Queenie, and saying to her, “An’ sho’ you’re welcome, miss,” she was thinking to herself, “For de dea’ Lord’s sake, whatever ’ll I do wid sich quality as dis, and whar ’ll I put her? There ain’t a room in de whole house fit for a nigger or a cracker to sleep in. An’ she’s de real stuff dat ladies is made of. Can’t cheat dis chile.” “Honey,” she said at last to Queenie, who was looking ruefully around her. “I’s no whar to ax you to sit down jes dis minute but in my cabin, whar I done scoured the flo’ dis blessed day. If I had known you’re comin’ I’d done somethin’.” Queenie explained that a letter had been sent to some one announcing her expected visit, and added, with a little shiver, “Let me go to your cabin. I am very tired and chilly.” So Aunt Judy led the way to her quarters, which were as neat and clean as soap and water and her strong hands could make them. A pine knot was blazing on the hearth, diffusing a delightful degree of light and warmth through the room, and Queenie felt better and less desolate than when standing outside in the chill twilight, which had succeeded the warm spring day. Before entering the cabin, Axie, accompanied by Sim and Judy, made the tour of the house, deciding at once that to pass the night in that damp, cheerless place, was utterly impossible. Queenie might have gone to town and staid at a hotel until something like decency and cleanliness was restored to a few of the rooms, but Boston had left, and there was no alternative but to sleep in Judy’s cabin. This, however, Queenie did not mind. Reared as she had been in France, she had none of the American prejudice against the African race, and ate her hot corncake which Aunt Judy baked for her, and drank her coffee from Judy’s cups, with almost as keen a relish, as she had ever dined at the Meurice. Once, indeed, as she remembered Chateau des Fleurs, and Hetherton Place, and then glanced at her humble surrounding there came a great lump in her throat, and her hands involuntarily struck the air as if to thrust something from her. But she meant to be very brave, and when at last she was lifted by Aunt Judy into the clean, comfortable bed, which had been made for her upon the low kitchen table, she fell asleep almost immediately, and knew nothing more until the morning sun was shining in at the open door, and she heard Axie and Judy outside consulting together about the propriety of waking her.