the left to free-handed women, Mrs. Carriswood travelled.
As she expressed it, she was searching the globe for a
perfect climate. "Not that I in the least expect to find it,"
said she, cheerfully, "but I like to vary my disappointments;
when I get worn out being frozen, winters, I go somewhere
to be soaked." She was on her way to California this time,
with her English maid, who gave the Lossing domestics many a
jolly moment by her inextinguishable panic about red Indians.
Mrs. Derry supposed these savages to be lurking on the prairie
outside every Western town; and almost fainted when she did chance
to turn the corner upon three Kickapoo Indians, splendid in paint
and feathers, and peacefully vending the "Famous Kickapoo Sagwa."
She had others of the artless notions of the travelling English,
and I fear that they were encouraged not only by the cook,
the "second girl," and the man-of-all-work, but by Harry
and his chum, Tommy; I know she used to tell how she saw
tame buffalo "roosting" on the streets, "w'ich they do look
that like common cows a body couldn't tell 'em hapart!"

She had a great opinion of Tommy, a mystery to her mistress
for a long time, until one day it leaked out that Tommy "and
Master Harry, too," had told her that Tommy's great-grandfather
was a lord in the old country.

"The family seem to have sunk in the world since, Derry,"
was Mrs. Carriswood's single remark, as she smiled to herself.
After Derry was dismissed she picked up a letter, written that
day to a friend of hers, and read some passages about Harry
and Tommy, smiling again.