"They wouldn't miss it for worlds. They are having a time just now, though, because Tempy has left them. They can't find out what her reason is and feel sure she didn't really want to go; now her sister Chloe is so near she seemed quite content, but for weeks she has been in a peculiar frame of mind and the last few days they have caught her in tears again and again. They sent for Dr. Allison, who lives miles and miles from here, but Miss Ella and Miss Louise will trust no other doctor. He says as far as he can tell she is not ill. Anyhow, she has gone home, and today their man-servant departed, also. Of course they might draw on the field hands for servants, but they hate to do it because they are so very rough. They have had this man-servant for years and years, ever since he was a little boy, and they can't account for his going, either. He had a face as long as a ham when he left them and gave absolutely no excuse except that his maw was sick, and as Miss Ella says, 'His mother has been dead for ten years, and she ought to know, since she furnished the clothes in which she was buried.' Miss Louise said she had only been dead eight, and they were her clothes, but they agree that she is dead at least, and can't account for Sam's excuse."

"Poor old ladies, I am sorry for them," said Douglas.

On the day of the ball, there was much furbishing up of finery at Valhalla. Mr. Carter's dress suit had to be pressed and his seldom used dress studs unearthed. Mrs. Carter forgot all about being an invalid and was as busy and happy as possible, trying dresses on her daughters to see that their underskirts were exactly the right length and even running tucks in with her own helpless little hands.

"It is a good thing I don't have to think about my own outsides," said Helen, "as all of my time must be spent in planning for our guests'

insides. I tell you, six more mouths to fill is going to keep Chloe and me hustling."

"It sho' is an' all them dishes ter wash is goin' ter keep me hustlin'

some mo'," grumbled Chloe. "An' then I gotter go ter the count's an'

stir my stumps."

"I am sorry, but I am going to give you a nice holiday after it is all over," said her young mistress kindly. The count had asked Helen to bring Chloe to look after the ladies in the dressing-room.

"I ain't a-mindin' 'bout dishes. I's jes' a-foolin'---- Say, Miss Helen, what does potatriotic mean?"

"Patriotic? That means loving your country and being willing to give up things for it and help save it. Everybody should be patriotic."

"But s'posin' yer ain't got no country?"

"Why, Chloe, everybody has a country, either the place where you were born or the place where you have been living long enough to love and feel that it is yours."

"But n.i.g.g.e.rs is been livin' here foreveraneveramen, an' still they ain't ter say got no country."

"Why, you have! Don't you think Uncle Sam would look after you and fight for you if you needed his help?"

"I ain't got no Uncle Sam, but I hear tell that he wouldn't raise his han' ter save a n.i.g.g.e.r, but yit if'n they's a war that he'll 'spec' the n.i.g.g.e.rs ter go git shot up fer him."

"Why, Chloe! How can you say such a thing?"

"I ain't er sayin' it--I's jes' a-sayin' I hears tell."

"Who told it to you?"

"n.o.body ain't tol' it ter me. I jes' hearn it."

"Well, it's not true."

"I hearn, too, that they's plenty er money ter go 'roun' in this country, but some folks what thinks they's better'n other folks has h.o.a.rded an' h.o.a.rded 'til po' folks can't git they han's on a nickel. An'

I hearn that they's gonter be distress an' misery, an' wailin' an'

s.n.a.t.c.hin' er teeth 'til some strong man arouses an' makes these here rich folks gib up they tin. n.o.body ain't a-gonter know who dat leader will be, he mought be white an' thin agin he mought be black, but he's a-gonter be a kinder sabior."

"How is he going to manage?" asked Helen, amused at what sounded like a sermon the girl might have heard from the rickety pulpit of the brick church.

"I ain't hearn, but I done gib out ter all these n.i.g.g.e.rs that my white folks ain't got no tin put away here in this Hogwallow or whatever Miss Nan done named it. They keeps their money hot a-spendin' it, I tells 'em all."

Helen laughed, and with a final touch at the supper table and a last peep at the sally lunn m.u.f.fins, which were rising as they should, she started to go help her mother with the dancing frocks and their petticoats that would show discrepancies.

"Say, Miss Helen, is you sho' Miss Ellanlouise is goin' ternight?" asked Chloe, following her up the steps.

"Yes, Chloe, I'm sure."

"An', Miss Helen, if'n folks ain't got no country ter love what ought they do?"

"Why, love one another, I reckon. Love the people of their own race, and try to help them."

"Oughtn't folks ter love they own color better'n any other?"

"Why, certainly!"

"If'n some of yo' folks got into trouble, what would you do?"

"Why, I'd help them out if I could."

"Even if'n they done wrong?"

"Of course! They would still be my own people."

"If they ain't ter say done it but is a-gonter do it, thin what would you do?"

"I'd try to stop them."

"Would you tell on 'em?"

"I'd try to stop them first. Who has done wrong or is going to do it, Chloe?"

"n.o.body ain't done wrong an' I ain't a-never said they is. I ain't said a word. This talk was jes' some foolishness I done made up out'n my haid. But say, Miss Helen,--I'd kinder like ter stop at Mammy's cabin over to Paradise befo' I gits ter de count's. I kin take my foot in my han' an' strike through the woods an' beat the hay wagin thar, it goin'

roun' by the road."

"All right, Chloe!"

Helen rather fancied that Chloe wanted to see her sister, who was evidently contemplating some imprudence. She had been threatening to marry James Hanks, but her people had shown themselves very much opposed to it. Perhaps the girl was on the eve of an elopement which had called forth all of the above conversation from her sister. Where did she get all of those strange socialistic ideas? Was Lewis Somerville right and was the little learning a dangerous thing for these poor colored people?

Surely she had helped Chloe by the little teaching she had given her.

The girl was like another creature. She seemed now to have self-respect, and Helen felt instinctively that her loyalty to her and her family was almost a religion with her.

CHAPTER XVI

DRESSING FOR THE BALL

"How are Miss Ella and Louise going?" asked Douglas, as she stooped for a parting glance in the mirror which the sloping ceiling necessitated hanging so low that a girl as tall as Douglas could not see above her nose without bending double.

"In their phaeton," answered Helen. "They don't mind driving themselves.

I asked them. You see with Sam gone they can't get out the big old rockaway."