And so, upon the present occasion, a pair of beauties unadorned came bounding into the room, breaking in upon Alice’s impromptu tableau. This, however, they had not time to remark; but wheeling round, as soon as they were safe within the door, they opened it an inch or two, stuck their several noses into the opening, and uttered to some person in the hall a few words of saucy triumph. Mr. Whacker had, in fact, stepped into the hall just as they were crossing it; and, seeing them, had given chase. Having made a few mocking faces at the old gentleman, and shut the door with another slam and another pair of pretty shrieks when he made as though he would follow them, they turned to their friends. “Did you hear it, girls?” began one of the intruders. “Hear what?” “The music.” “The music? What music?” “What! did you, too, sleep through it all?” “What! was there a serenade, and you did not wake us? It was really mean of you!” If _ouch_ is masculine, _really mean_ is feminine. “Bless you, we heard never a note of it ourselves!” “A note of what? Who heard it, and what was there to hear? What enigma is this?” “Why, hasn’t Aunt Phœbe told you?” “Told us what? What is there to tell, Aunt Phœbe, and why have you not told us already?” “Bless your sweet souls un you, I ain’t had time,” said old Phœbe, bowing and courtesying all round; while Milly grinned ungainly in her wake. “You see, I jess stepped in on dese two young ladies fust, and cotched ’em Christmas gift, and very nice presents they had, all ready and awaitin’ for ole Phœbe,”—and she courtesied to each,—“and for Milly, too, bless their sweet souls un ’em, jess like dey knowed Phœbe was a-comin’ to cotch ’em,—bless de pretty little honeys!—and so says I, says I to myself, says I, I’ll jess step in and catch dese two fust; and so, I creeps up to de door, I did, soft as a cat, I did, and turns de knob, easy-like, and I flings open de door and ‘Christmas gift’ says I, jess so, says I, and dey had de most loveliest presents all wrapped up and a-waiting for Phœbe, jess as I tell you, and for Milly too, and I dunno what Milly gwine do wid all de things she done got, and dey is all nice and one ain’t no prettier dan de others, and Phœbe is uncommon obleeged to one and all,”—and she gave a duck in front of each,—“and Milly too. Gal, what you a-standin’ dere for, wid your fingers in your mouth, like somebody ain’t got no sense? Ain’t you gwine to make no motion? Is dat de way I done fotch you up, and you b’long to de quality, too? Dese young niggers is too much—too much for Phœbe!” It would be going too far, perhaps, to say that Milly blushed; but she managed to look abashed, and contrived to appease her mother by sundry uncouth wrigglings, meant to express her thanks. “Howsomedever, as I was sayin’, year in and year out ole marster have had a heap o’ young ladies a-spendin’ Christmas at Elmin’ton,—fust one Christmas and den another; but ef ever Phœbe saw more lovelier—” “Oh, Aunt Phœbe!”