“Not yet,” Minerva’s face fell; she had received strict orders from Marjorie never to leave Madame Yvonett alone in the house. “I am expecting her to return at any moment. Does thee wish to go out?” “Yass’m; Miss Rebekah done tole me she’d be back by three, so’s I could go to George Henry’s funeral at fo’ o’clock.” Madame Yvonett glanced at the clock; the hands pointed to twenty minutes past three. “Don’t wait any longer,” she directed kindly. “I will watch for Miss Rebekah and let her in when she comes.” Minerva wavered between desire and her sense of responsibility. “I done locked de kitchen do’, an’ all de winders in de basement,” she volunteered hopefully. “Miss Rebekah kain’t be much longer.” “Thee must not wait,” and Madame Yvonett’s tone of decision removed Minerva’s doubts. “I have the telephone if I require aid. On thy way out, Minerva, tell the coachman he is stopping at the wrong house.” “No, madam, he ain’t,” protested Minerva hastily. “George Henry b’longed ter my burial sassiety, an’ dey sent a kerrage ter take me ter de funeral.” “A victoria, Minerva?” Madame Yvonett’s astonishment keyed her voice to a higher pitch. “Yass’m.” Minerva’s smile of satisfaction showed every tooth in her head. “De burial committee axed me what I done want, an’ I tole dem I wished one ob dem ‘lay backs.’ I’se allus hoped ter ride in one like white folks; ye see, poverty ain’t no disgrace, but it’s mighty onconvenient. I’ll be hyar in time ter get supper, madam.” And she departed hastily, fearing Madame Yvonett might change her mind and insist on her staying until Miss Rebekah Graves returned. Madame Yvonett chuckled softly to herself as she watched Minerva enter the victoria and drive off in state. The victoria, with its triumphant occupant, had hardly turned into K Street, before Madame Yvonett descried Miss Rebekah Graves trudging across Franklin Park, intent on taking the shortest cut home. The Quakeress was at the front door to meet her when she reached the steps. “Do not trouble to go to thy room to remove thy wraps, Becky,” she said. “Take them off here, and come into the parlor, it is the warmest room in the house. Thee must be cold,” eyeing the pinched lips and red nose of the spinster with much sympathy. Miss Rebekah sniffed as she inspected the narrow confines of the small hall, and compromised the matter by walking into the dining-room and leaving her hat and coat there. On entering the parlor she found Madame Yvonett had resumed her knitting, and she paused a moment to smooth back several gray locks in the severe style which she affected to dress her hair. “Did thee find affairs satisfactory at the Home?” questioned Madame Yvonett. “I did not,” seating herself near Madame Yvonett. “Two girls whom the matron rescued, have returned to their wicked ways.” “If thee made virtue less detestable, Becky, thee would have more true converts.”