Her last thought before falling asleep, and her first on awaking next
morning, were of him.

"Oh, dear!" she sighed half aloud, as she opened her eyes, and glanced
round the room, "what shall I do if he doesn't come to-day? I'll have to
stand it, of course; but what does a woman do who has no husband?" And
for the first time she began to feel some sympathy for Miss Deane, as a
lonely maiden lady.

She thought a good deal about her unwelcome guest while attending to the
duties of the toilet, and determined to treat her with all possible
kindness during the remainder of her enforced stay at Ion. So, meeting,
on her way to the breakfast-room, the old negress who had been given
charge of Miss Deane through the night, she stopped her, and asked how
her patient was.

"Jes' pow'ful cross dis hyar mawnin', Miss Zoe," was the reply, in a
tone of disgust. "Dar isn't one ob de fambly dat would be makin' half
de fuss ef dey'd sprained bofe dey's ankles. Doan ye go nigh her,
honey, fear she bite yo' head off."

"Indeed I sha'n't, Aunt Phillis, if there's any danger of that," laughed
Zoe. "But as she can't jump up and run after me, I think I shall be
quite safe if I don't go within arm's-length of her sofa."

"She's pow'ful cross," repeated Aunt Phillis: "she done gone call dis
chile up time an' again fru de night; an' when I ax her, 'Whar yo'
misery at?' she say, 'In my ankle, ob c'ose, yo' ole fool you! Cayn't
yo' hab nuff sense to change de dressin'?'"