"It isn't of him alone I would speak," resumed Mrs. Hamilton, with
stately gravity; "you spoke insultingly of me, and as I make it a
practise never to keep a servant after they get insolent, I have----"

"For the dear Lord's sake," again interrupted Polly, "I 'spect we's
the fust servants you ever had."

"Good!" said a voice from some quarter, and Mrs. Hamilton continued:
"I have sent for you to give you twenty-four hours' warning to leave
this house."

"I shan't budge an inch until marster says so," said Polly. "Wonder
who's the best title deed here? Warn't I here long afore you come a
nussin' t'other one?"

And Polly went back to the kitchen, secretly fearing that Mr.
Hamilton, who she knew was wholly ruled by his wife, would say that
she must go. And he did say so, though much against his will. Lenora
ran with the decision, to Aunt Polly, causing her to drop a loaf of
new bread. But the old negress chased her from the cellar with the
oven broom, and then stealing by a back staircase to Margaret's room,
laid the case before her, acknowledging that she was sorry and asking
her young mistress to intercede for her. Margaret stepped to the head
of the stairs, and calling to her father, requested him to come for a
moment to her room. This he was more ready to do, as he had no
suspicion why he was sent for, but on seeing old Polly, he
half-resolved to turn back. Margaret, however, led him into the room,
and then entreated him not to send away one who had served him so long
and so faithfully.