"My dear, my dear," murmured Miss Lydia.

"She's des an out'n out fire bran', dat's w'at she is," said Uncle
Shadrach.

"Well, the Lord oughtn't to have let her take it just as I was thanking Him
for it!" sobbed Betty, and she burst into tears and left the table,
upsetting Mr. Bill's coffee cup as she went by.

The Governor looked gravely after her. "I'm afraid the child is really
getting spoiled, Julia," he mildly suggested.

"She's getting a--a vixenish," declared Mr. Bill, mopping his expansive
white waistcoat.

"You des better lemme go atter a twig er willow, Marse Peyton," muttered
Uncle Shadrach in the Governor's ear.

"Hold your tongue, Shadrach," retorted the Governor, which was the harshest
command he was ever known to give his servants.

Virginia ate her waffle and said nothing. When she went upstairs a little
later, she carried a pitcher of buttermilk for Betty's face.

"It isn't usual for a young lady to have freckles, Aunt Lydia says," she
remarked, "and you must rub this right on and not wash it off till
morning--and, after you've rubbed it well in, you must get down on your
knees and ask God to mend your temper."

Betty was lying in her little trundle bed, while Petunia, her small black