appear above the spur of the hill. Then the channel caught it,
whirled it over and over, faster and faster, and sucked it downward.

Mrs. Sutton was at the tea-table with the girls that evening, when
Johnson, the sable Mercury, showed himself at the door, to inform
his superior that he had "got everything at de sto' she sent him fur
to buy."

"You mailed the letters, Johnson?" said the mild mistress, rather
anxiously.

"All on dem, Mistis!"

"The unconscionable liar!" thought Rosa, virtuously, "he ought to be
flogged! But it is none of my business to contradict him."

She did not say now, "My hands are clean!"






CHAPTER VI.

CRAFT--OR DIPLOMACY!