all my friends, and NEVER come back again?"

"Why, no 'ndeed," interposed Mis' Molly
wistfully, as she hovered around her daughter, giving
her hair or her gown a touch here and there;
"she'll be so homesick in a month that she'll be
willin' to walk home."

"You would n' never hafter do dat, Miss Rena,"
returned Frank, with a disconsolate smile. "Ef
you ever wanter come home, an' can't git back no
other way, jes' let ME know, an' I'll take my mule
an' my kyart an' fetch you back, ef it's from de
een' er de worl'."

"Thank you, Frank, I believe you would," said
the girl kindly. "You're a true friend, Frank,
and I'll not forget you while I'm gone."

The idea of her beautiful daughter riding home
from the end of the world with Frank, in a cart,
behind a one-eyed mule, struck Mis' Molly as the
height of the ridiculous--she was in a state of
excitement where tears or laughter would have
come with equal ease--and she turned away to
hide her merriment. Her daughter was going to
live in a fine house, and marry a rich man, and
ride in her carriage. Of course a negro would
drive the carriage, but that was different from
riding with one in a cart.