troubled. But her father smiled. "Yankee is what Britishers call all
Americans," he answered.

"Then Elinor Mayhew is just as much a Yankee as I am," thought Sylvia,
and she smiled so radiantly at the thought that Mrs. Fulton was
reassured, and did not question her.

The next day was Saturday, and Mr. Fulton had planned to take his wife
and Sylvia to Fort Moultrie. The military band of the fort played every
afternoon, and the parapet of the fort was a daily promenade for many
Charleston people. During the summer workmen had been making necessary
repairs on the fortifications; but visitors were always welcomed by the
officers in charge, one of whom, Captain Carleton, was a college friend
of Sylvia's father.

Sylvia could row a small boat very well, and her father had purchased a
pretty sailboat which he was teaching her to steer. She often went with
her father on trips about the harbor, and the little girl always thought
that these excursions were the most delightful of pleasures.

There was a favorable breeze this Saturday afternoon, and the little
boat, with its shining white paint and snowy sail, skimmed swiftly
across the harbor. Sylvia watched the little waves which seemed to dance
forward to meet them, looked at the many boats and vessels, and quite
forgot Elinor Mayhew's unkindness. Her mother and father were talking of
the black servants, whom they had hired with the house of Mr. Robert
Waite, Grace's uncle. Sylvia heard them speak of Aunt Connie, the good-
natured black cook, who lived in a cabin behind the Fultons' kitchen.

"Aunt Connie wants to bring her little girl to live with her. Their