aunt, Miss Editha Shelby Morris Carruthers, brought her up perfectly
beautifully. I didn't know how to comfort her because I had been two
years at the Manor on the Hudson and then a year in Europe, and, though
nobody ever has directly kissed me, a girl's hand and hair don't seem to
count out in the world.

To take Edith's mind off Tolly's perfidy I told her about the play, and
she was as impressed as anybody could wish her to be, and promised to
stand by me and make people understand why I couldn't dance and picnic
like other people because of this great work I had to do for a dear
friend. I told her not to tell anybody but Sue, and she went home
completely comforted by her friendly interest in Peter and me. In fact,
she really adored the idea of helping me help Peter, and seemed to
forget her anger at Tolly with a beautiful spirit.

About that time Eph solemnly called me in to lunch. Eph is a nice,
jolly old negro until he gets a white linen jacket and apron on, and
then he turns into a black mummy. I think it is because I used to want
to talk to him at the table when I still sat in a high chair. I don't
believe he has any confidence in my discretion even now, and that is why
he seats me with such a grand and forbidding display of ceremony.

"Betty dear," said mother, after Eph had served her chicken soup and
passed her the beaten biscuits, "I found an old note-book of my mother's
that has all the wonderful things she did to the negroes and other live
stock on her farm out in Harpeth Valley. You know she ran the whole
thousand acres herself after father's death in her twenty-seventh year,
and she was a wonderful woman, though she did have three girls and only
one son. There is a section of her notes devoted to cows and their
diseases, and Sam might be interested to hear how she managed them so