At this moment Mrs. Nichols appeared. Stimulated by the example of
'Lena, she, too, had changed her dress, and now in black bombazine,
white muslin cap, and shining silk apron, she presented so
respectable an appearance that her son's face instantly brightened.

"Come, mother, we are waiting for you," said he, as she stopped on
her way to ask Vine, the _fly girl_, "how she did, and if it wasn't
hard work to swing them feathers."

Not being very bright, Vine replied with a grim, "Dun know, miss."

Taking her seat next to her son, Mrs. Nichols said when offered a
plate of soup, "I don't often eat broth, besides that, I ain't much
hungry, as I've just been takin' a bite with _Miss Atherton_?"

"With whom?" asked Mr. Livingstone, John Jr., Carrie, and Anna, in
the same breath.

"With Miss Polly Atherton, that nice old colored lady in the
kitchen," said Mrs. Nichols.

The scowl on Mrs. Livingstone's face darkened visibly, while her
husband, thinking it time to speak, said, "It is my wish, mother,
that you keep away from the kitchen. It does the negroes no good to
be meddled with, and besides that, when you are hungry the servants
will take you something."

"Accustomed to eat in the kitchen, probably," muttered Carrie, with
all the air of a young lady of twenty.