dis ere mornin'."

The horse was speedily ready, and Tom looked after his master as he
leaped into the saddle and dashed off in the direction of the lonely
cottage. There was a grin on his face as he muttered, "Reckon Missis
don't know whar yer gwine." He walked toward the house, whistling,
"Nelly was a lady."

"Dat ar war gwine roun' an' roun' de hus las' night, jes like a
sperit. 'Twar dat ar Spanish lady," said Dinah.

"She sings splendiferous," rejoined Tom, "an' Massa liked it more dan
de berry bes bottle ob wine." He ended by humming, "Now all dem happy
days am ober."

"Better not let Massa hear yer sing dat ar," said Dinah. "He make yer
sing nudder song."

"She's mighty gran' lady, an' a bery perlite missis, an' Ise sorry fur
her," replied Tom.

Mr. Fitzgerald had no sense of refreshment in his morning ride. He
urged his horse along impatiently, with brow contracted and lips
firmly compressed. He was rehearsing in his mind the severe reprimand
he intended to bestow upon Rosa. He expected to be met with tears and
reproaches, to which he would show himself hard till she made contrite
apologies for her most unexpected and provoking proceedings. It was
his purpose to pardon her at last, for he was far enough from wishing
to lose her; and she had always been so gentle and submissive, that he
entertained no doubt the scene would end with a loving willingness to