and she rocked back and forth, wiping her eyes with her apron. Mara sprang up, her streaming tears dried by the hotness of her indignation as she cried, "And I too can see him, with his little band, dashing against almost an army and then trodden in the soil he died to defend. No, no, Owen Clancy, never!" "Ah," said a low stern voice, "that's the true spirit. Now, Mara, you are your father's child. Never forget; never forgive," and they saw that Mrs. Hunter stood with them in the dim kitchen. "Dunno 'bout dat, Missus. Reckon de wah am ober, an' what we gwine ter do wid de Lawd's prar? Dar, dar, honey, 'pose you'se nerves. 'Taint bes' to tink too much ob de ole times, an' I mustn't talk to you so no mo'." CHAPTER IX A NEW SOLACE On her way home Aun' Sheba shook her head more than once in perplexity and disapprobation over what she had heard. She had the freedom of speech of an old family servant who had never been harshly repressed even when a slave, and now was added the fearlessness of a free woman. Her affection for Mara was so strong that in her ignorance she shared in some of the girl's prejudices against the North, but not in her antipathy. The thought that Clancy had waned in his regard or that he could even think of a Northern girl after having "kep' company" with Mara, had been exasperating, but now Aun' Sheba began to suspect that the estrangement was not wholly his fault. "She set agin him by his gwine Norf an' his habin' to do wid de folks dat she an' ole Missus hates. Doan see why he is mad at me 'bout it. Reckon he's mad anyhow an' can't speak peac'ble to nobody. Well, I likes him a heap betteh in dat view ob de case an' he kin glower at me all he please 'long as he ain't 'sertin' young Missy case she is po'. Couldn't stan' dat no how. He's willin' an' she ain't, an' dat wat she mean by sayin' 'No, Owen Clancy, nebbeh.' She won't lis'n to him kase he doan hate de Norf like pizen. Now dat is foolishness, an' she's sot up to it by de ole Missus. De Norf does as well as it know how. To be sure, it ain't quality like young Missy, but it buy de cotton an' it got de po'r. Wat's mo', it gib me a chance to wuck fer mysef. I would do as much fer young Missy as eber. I'd wuck my fingers off fer her, but I likes ter do it like white folks, kase I lub her. She orten' be so hard on young Clancy. He got his way ter make and dere'd be no good in his buttin' his head agin a wall. Tings am as dey is, an' I'm glad dey is as dey am. Dey's a long sight betteh fer cullud folks and white folks too, ef dey's a min' ter pull wid de curren' sted ob agin it. Massa Clancy's no fool. He know dis. He los' his pa an his prop'ty too, but he know betteh dan to go on hatin' fereber. Dey can't spec' me to uphole dem in dis fer it agin de Scripter an' my feelin's. Ole Missus bery 'ligious. She dun fergit wat de words mean she say ebry Sunday, But den, wot de use ob callin' ole Missus to 'count. She neber could see ony her side ob de question. It don make