“I go then at once,” Finette answered, in a cringing tone. “My blessings and my thanks go with you!” exclaimed her wayward mistress. “I don’t know about that,” the clever maid muttered, when she found herself alone in the darkness of the hall. “You’re a capricious one as ever I see. Maybe by to-morrow you’ll make up your quarrel with your boy-husband and want to undo all I’ve done to please you to-night.” She crept softly along the hall, and knelt down and applied her ear to the key-hole at the old lady’s door. There came to her distinctly the deep breathing of one asleep. “Deep in the arms of Morpheus!” she muttered, grimly. “And she never locks her door at night. Come, I do not think I’m going to have vair mooch trouble getting the brat away.” She slid along the floor and went softly down-stairs to prepare for her evil errand. To do so she had to go out to the stables to saddle a horse. As she was going softly past the summer-house, she started on coming face to face with a female figure in white with a shawl thrown over its head. “Oh, Miss Finette, don’t holler, please! ’Tain’t nobuddy but Nance! I’se been to an ebenin’ party, an’ gwine to slip inter de back do’ easy,” half whispered the voice of one of the negro house-maids. “I don’t know but I ought to report you to the housekeeper, Nance, for keeping such late hours,” Finette answered, jokingly. “Per’aps I’ll ’port you to your young missus fer de same t’ing!” cried Nance. “‘Sh! I was fooling, Nance. I had to come out for some fresh air before I went to bed. I’ve been up all night with my lady.” “In ’nuther tantrum?” inquired Nance, intelligently. “Yes.” “Whut’s up now?” “Master came to-night, and they quarreled as usual.” “I wonder he don’t leave her for good and all, she’s so aggervating, and he’s the most patientest soul alive,” cried the house-maid, indignantly. “Well, she is a high one,” giggled Finette, some secret memory seeming to amuse her. Presently she said, confidentially: “Well, she’s been in an outrageous temper since yesterday morning.” “Fer why?” queried Nance. “Well, she was looking in the glass at herself, and whatever do you think she found?” “Oh, whut?” gasped Nance, breathless with eagerness. Finette, whose coarse, unscrupulous nature always took revenge in private for the snubs her mistress often gave her, giggled softly again and answered: “The first gray hair in that red hair of hers.” “Oh, my! she is a-gitten old.” “Yes; and she cut a caper, I tell you! Actually threw herself down and cried like somebody was dead. Then she got up, glared at herself, and made me pull the gray hair out and burn it in a hurry. She was as cross as could be after that.” “Lordy!” giggled Nance, who had no love for her young mistress.