Ashlands on passing out at the gate.

It was a bright, breezy morning, and her heart felt so light and
gay that a snatch of glad song rose to her lips. She warbled a few
bird-like notes, then fell to humming softly to herself.

At a little distance down the road a light wagon was rumbling along,
driven by one of the man-servants from the Oaks, and carrying Aunt
Chloe and her young mistress' trunks.

"Come, Jim," said Elsie, glancing over her shoulder at her attendant
satellite, "we must pass them. Glossy and I are in haste to-day. Ah,
mammy, are you enjoying your ride?" she called to her old nurse as she
cantered swiftly by.

"Yes, dat I is, honey!" returned the old woman. Then sending a loving,
admiring look after the retreating form so full of symmetry and grace,
"My bressed chile!" she murmured, "you's beautiful as de mornin', your
ole mammy tinks, an' sweet as de finest rose in de garden; bright an'
happy as de day am long, too."

"De beautifullest in all de country, an' de finest," chimed in her
charioteer.

The young people at Ashlands were all out on the veranda enjoying the
fresh morning air--Herbert lying on a lounge with a book in his hand;
Harry and Lucy seated on opposite sides of a small round table and
deep in a game of chess; two little fellows of six and eight--John and
Archie by name--were spinning a top.