Christine and Aunt Phillis, who had been left in charge of Miss Deane,
had had a sore trial of patience in waiting upon her, humoring her
whims, listening to her fretting and complaints, and trying to soothe
and entertain her. She was extremely irritable, and seemed determined
not to be pleased with any thing they could do for her.

"Where is your mistress?" she asked at length. "Pretty manners she has,
to leave a suffering guest to the sole care of servants."

"Yes, Miss, Ise alluz t'ought Miss Zoe hab pretty manners and a pretty
face," replied Aunt Phillis; "but dere is ladies what habn't none, an'
doan' git pleased wid nuffin' nor nobody, an eayn't stan' no misery
nowhars 'bout deirselves, but jes' keep frettin' and concessantly
displainin' 'bout dis t'ing and dat, like dey hasn't got nuffin' to be
thankful for."

"Impudence!" muttered Miss Deane, her eyes flashing angrily. Then
bidding her attendants be quiet, she settled herself for a nap.

She was waked by a slight bustle in the house, accompanied by sounds as
if a number of men were carrying a heavy burden through the
entrance-hall, and up the wide stairway leading to the second story.

"What's the matter? What's going on? Has any thing happened?" she asked,
starting up to a sitting posture.

Christine had risen to her feet, pale and trembling, and stood listening
intently.