"Well," she said, throwing herself off the window-seat with a demi-summersault, which landed her in the middle of the room, "here I am. What's wanted?" It was rather difficult for me to say just that instant what I did want, having only a charge of consolation on hand. "Well," she added, "what have I done to you, Miss Hyde, that I can't be allowed to sit still in my own room?" "Nothing, Lottie; I was only afraid that you might be fretting." Her eyes instantly filled with tears, which she dashed aside with her hand. "So I was; what's the use of denying it? She never said a cross word to me before, and wouldn't now but for that Mrs. Babylon. I hate that widder; I want to stomp her down under my feet. It makes me grit my teeth when she comes sailing out into the garden, and looks up to Mrs. Lee's window, just like a dog hankering after a bone." "Why, how can you feel so bitterly, Lottie, about a person you never spoke to a dozen times in your life?" I said, shocked and surprised by her vehemence. "Didn't I, though? How 'cute people can be with their eyes shut! Well, I fancy that the widder and I are slightly acquainted--better than she thinks for." "Why, how can that be possible; you are always in Mrs. Lee's room?" "Generally, generally--not always. There is hours in the morning, before she gets up; hours in the evening, after she goes to bed; when I break out, and do a little exploring about the premises. This morning I was in Mrs. Babylon's room before any of you were up." "Indeed! How did that happen?" "That sneaking mulatto girl came to the chamber-door as I was passing, and beckoned me to come in." "And you went?" "Me! Why not? If a girl never sinsatiates around, how is she to find out what's going on? Besides, I wanted to know just how Babylon looked in her own room; so, being invited, I went in." "But what did she want of you?" "Don't know. Something besides doing a braid up in eleven strands, I surmise; but that was what she made believe it was about--just as if that mulatto creature didn't understand that much of her business. I did it though, meek as Moses--such hair! a yard long in the shortest part. It was worth while trying a hand at it; but, after all, it seemed like braiding copperheads and rattlesnakes. I hate to touch anybody's hair if I don't like 'em; it makes me crawl all over." "But why don't you like Mrs. Dennison?" "Why--because I don't; and because you don't either." I could not help smiling, and yet was half angry with the girl. She shook her head gravely and went on: "It wasn't the hair, Miss Hyde; that copper-colored girl knew more than I did about it, often as I've braided for Miss Jessie." "Then what did she want?" "I've found out--never you fear." "Well?"