it could not be, for there was no affinity between them. Carrie was
proud and overbearing--jealous of her high-spirited cousin, who, as
John Jr. had said, strove hard to subdue her temper, and who now
seldom resented Carrie's insults, except when they were leveled at
her aged grandmother.

As we have before stated, news' had been received at Maple Grove that
Durward would accompany her cousins home. Mr. Graham would, of
course, join him there, and accordingly, extensive preparations were
immediately commenced. An unusual degree of sickness was prevailing
among the female portion of Mrs. Livingstone's servants, and the very
day before the company was expected, Aunt Milly, the head cook was
taken suddenly ill. Coaxing, scolding, and threatening were alike
ineffectual. The old negress would not say she was well when she
wasn't, and as Hagar, the next in command, was also sick (_lazy_, as
her mistress called it,) Mrs. Livingstone was herself obliged to
superintend the cookery.

"Crosser than a bar," as the little darkies said, she flew back and
forth, from kitchen to pantry, her bunch of keys rattling, the
corners of her mouth drawn back, and her hands raised ready to strike
at anything that came in her way. As if there were a fatality
attending her movements, she was unfortunate in whatever she
undertook. The cake was burned black, the custard curdled, the
preserves were found to be working, the big preserve dish got broken,
a thunder shower soured the cream, and taking it all in all, she
really had trouble enough to disconcert the most experienced
housekeeper. Still, the few negroes able to assist, thought "she
needn't be so fetch-ed cross."