THE LITTLE COLONEL

By Annie Fellows Johnston

1895

TO ONE OF KENTUCKY'S DEAREST LITTLE DAUGHTERS

The Little Colonel

HERSELF--THIS REMEMBRANCE OF A HAPPY SUMMER IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"'CAUSE I'M SO MUCH LIKE YOU, ' WAS THE STARTLING ANSWER". "THE SAME TEMPER SEEMED TO BE BURNING IN THE EYES OF THE CHILD". "WITH THE PARROT PERCHED ON THE BROOM SHE WAS CARRYING". "THE LITTLE COLONEL CLATTERED UP AND DOWN THE HALL". "SINGING AT THE TOP OF HER VOICE". "'TELL ME GOOD-BY, BABY DEAR, ' SAID MRS. SHERMAN". "'AMANTHIS, ' REPEATED THE CHILD DREAMILY". "SHE CLIMBED UP IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR". "THE SWEET LITTLE VOICE SANG IT TO THE END". 

CHAPTER I. 

It was one of the prettiest places in all Kentucky where the LittleColonel stood that morning. She was reaching up on tiptoes, her eagerlittle face pressed close against the iron bars of the great entrancegate that led to a fine old estate known as "Locust. "

A ragged little Scotch and Skye terrier stood on its hind feet besideher, thrusting his inquisitive nose between the bars, and wagging histasselled tail in lively approval of the scene before them. 

They were looking down a long avenue that stretched for nearly a quarterof a mile between rows of stately old locust-trees. 

At the far end they could see the white pillars of a large stone housegleaming through the Virginia creeper that nearly covered it. But theycould not see the old Colonel in his big chair on the porch behind thecool screen of vines. 

At that very moment he had caught the rattle of wheels along the road, and had picked up his field-glass to see who was passing. It was onlya coloured man jogging along in the heat and dust with a cart full ofchicken-coops. The Colonel watched him drive up a lane that led to theback of the new hotel that had just been opened in this quiet countryplace. Then his glance fell on the two small strangers coming throughhis gate down the avenue toward him. One was the friskiest dog he hadever seen in his life. The other was a child he judged to be about fiveyears old. 

Her shoes were covered with dust, and her white sunbonnet had slippedoff and was hanging over her shoulders. A bunch of wild flowers she hadgathered on the way hung limp and faded in her little warm hand. Hersoft, light hair was cut as short as a boy's. 

There was something strangely familiar about the child, especially inthe erect, graceful way she walked. 

Old Colonel Lloyd was puzzled. He had lived all his life inLloydsborough, and this was the first time he had ever failed torecognize one of the neighbours' children. He knew every dog and horse, too, by sight if not by name. 

Living so far from the public road did not limit his knowledge of whatwas going on in the world. A powerful field-glass brought every passingobject in plain view, while he was saved all annoyance of noise anddust. 

"I ought to know that child as well as I know my own name, " he said tohimself. "But the dog is a stranger in these parts. Liveliest thing Iever set eyes on! They must have come from the hotel. Wonder what theywant. "

He carefully wiped the lens for a better view. When he looked again hesaw that they evidently had not come to visit him. 

They had stopped half-way down the avenue, and climbed up on a rusticseat to rest. 

The dog sat motionless about two minutes, his red tongue hanging out asif he were completely exhausted. 

Suddenly he gave a spring, and bounded away through the tall blue grass. He was back again in a moment, with a stick in his mouth. Standingup with his fore paws in the lap of his little mistress, he looked sowistfully into her face that she could not refuse this invitation for aromp. 

The Colonel chuckled as they went tumbling about in the grass to findthe stick which the child repeatedly tossed away. 

He hitched his chair along to the other end of the porch as they keptgetting farther away from the avenue. 

It had been many a long year since those old locust-trees had seen asight like that. Children never played any more under their dignifiedshadows. 

Time had been (but they only whispered this among themselves on rarespring days like this) when the little feet chased each other up anddown the long walk, as much at home as the pewees in the beeches. 

Suddenly the little maid stood up straight, and began to sniff the air, as if some delicious odour had blown across the lawn. 

"Fritz, " she exclaimed, in delight, "I 'mell 'trawberries!"

The Colonel, who could not hear the remark, wondered at the abrupt pausein the game. He understood it, however, when he saw them wading throughthe tall grass, straight to his strawberry bed. It was the pride of hisheart, and the finest for miles around. The first berries of the seasonhad been picked only the day before. Those that now hung temptingly redon the vines he intended to send to his next neighbour, to prove hisboasted claim of always raising the finest and earliest fruit. 

He did not propose to have his plans spoiled by these stray guests. Laying the field-glass in its accustomed place on the little tablebeside his chair, he picked up his hat and strode down the walk. 

Colonel Lloyd's friends all said he looked like Napoleon, or rather likeNapoleon might have looked had he been born and bred a Kentuckian. 

He made an imposing figure in his suit of white duck. 

The Colonel always wore white from May till October. 

There was a military precision about him, from his erect carriage to thecut of the little white goatee on his determined chin. 

No one looking into the firm lines of his resolute face could imaginehim ever abandoning a purpose or being turned aside when he once formedan opinion. 

Most children were afraid of him. The darkies about the place shook intheir shoes when he frowned. They had learned from experience that "oleMarse Lloyd had a tigah of a tempah in him. "

As he passed down the walk there were two mute witnesses to his oldsoldier life. A spur gleamed on his boot heel, for he had just returnedfrom his morning ride, and his right sleeve hung empty. 

He had won his title bravely. He had given his only son and his strongright arm to the Southern cause. That had been nearly thirty years ago. 

He did not charge down on the enemy with his usual force this time. Thelittle head, gleaming like sunshine in the strawberry patch, reminded him so strongly of a little fellow who used to follow himeverywhere, --Tom, the sturdiest, handsomest boy in the county, --Tom, whom he had been so proud of, whom he had so nearly worshipped. 

Looking at this fair head bent over the vines, he could almost forgetthat Tom had ever outgrown his babyhood, that he had shouldered a rifleand followed him to camp, a mere boy, to be shot down by a Yankee bulletin his first battle. 

The old Colonel could almost believe he had him back again, and that hestood in the midst of those old days the locusts sometimes whisperedabout. 

He could not hear the happiest of little voices that was just thensaying, "Oh, Fritz, isn't you glad we came? An' isn't you glad we've gota gran'fathah with such good 'trawberries?"

It was hard for her to put the "s" before her consonants. 

As the Colonel came nearer she tossed another berry into the dog'smouth. A twig snapped, and she raised a startled face toward him. 

"Suh?" she said, timidly, for it seemed to her that the stern, piercingeyes had spoken. 

"What are you doing here, child?" he asked, in a voice so much kinderthan his eyes that she regained her usual self-possession at once. 

"Eatin' 'trawberries, " she answered, coolly. 

"Who are you, anyway?" he exclaimed, much puzzled. As he asked thequestion his gaze happened to rest on the dog, who was peering at himthrough the ragged, elfish wisps of hair nearly covering its face, witheyes that were startlingly human. 

"'Peak when yo'ah 'poken to, Fritz, " she said, severely, at the sametime popping another luscious berry into her mouth. Fritz obedientlygave a long yelp. The Colonel smiled grimly. 

"What's your name?" he asked, this time looking directly at her. 

"Mothah calls me her baby, " was the soft-spoken reply, "but papa an' MomBeck they calls me the Little Cun'l. "

"What under the sun do they call you that for?" he roared. 

"'Cause I'm so much like you, " was the startling answer. 

"Like me!" fairly gasped the Colonel. "How are you like me?"

"Oh, I'm got such a vile tempah, an' I stamps my foot when I gets mad, an' gets all red in the face. An' I hollahs at folks, an' looks jus' zisway. "

She drew her face down and puckered her lips into such a sullen poutthat it looked as if a thunder-storm had passed over it. The nextinstant she smiled up at him serenely. The Colonel laughed. "What makesyou think I am like that?" he said. "You never saw me before. "

"Yes, I have too, " she persisted. "You's a-hangin' in a gold frame overou' mantel. "

Just then a clear, high voice was heard calling out in the road. 

The child started up in alarm. "Oh, deah, " she exclaimed in dismay, atsight of the stains on her white dress, where she had been kneeling onthe fruit, "that's Mom Beck. Now I'll be tied up, and maybe put to bedfor runnin' away again. But the berries is mighty nice, " she added, politely. "Good mawnin', suh. Fritz, we mus' be goin' now. "

The voice was coming nearer. 

"I'll walk down to the gate with you, " said the Colonel, anxious tolearn something more about his little guest. "Oh, you'd bettah not, suh!" she cried in alarm. "Mom Beck doesn't like you a bit. She justhates you! She's goin' to give you a piece of her mind the next time shesees you. I heard her tell Aunt Nervy so. "

There was as much real distress in the child's voice as if she weretelling him of a promised flogging. 

"Lloyd! Aw, Lloy-eed!" the call came again. 

A neat-looking coloured woman glanced in at the gate as she was passingby, and then stood still in amazement. She had often found her littlecharge playing along the roadside or hiding behind trees, but she hadnever before known her to pass through any one's gate. 

As the name came floating down to him through the clear air, a changecame over the Colonel's stern face. He stooped over the child. His handtrembled as he put it under her soft chin and raised her eyes to his. 

"Lloyd, Lloyd!" he repeated, in a puzzled way. "Can it be possible?There certainly is a wonderful resemblance. You have my little Tom'shair, and only my baby Elizabeth ever had such hazel eyes. "

He caught her up in his one arm, and strode on to the gate, where thecoloured woman stood. 

"Why, Becky, is that you?" he cried, recognizing an old, trusted servantwho had lived at Locust in his wife's lifetime. 

Her only answer was a sullen nod. 

"Whose child is this?" he asked, eagerly, without seeming to notice herdefiant looks. "Tell me if you can. "

"How can I tell you, suh, " she demanded, indignantly, "when you havefo'bidden even her name to be spoken befo' you?"

A harsh look came into the Colonel's eyes. He put the child hastilydown, and pressed his lips together. 

"Don't tie my sunbonnet, Mom Beck, " she begged. Then she waved her handwith an engaging smile. 

"Good-bye, suh, " she said, graciously. "We've had a mighty nice time!"

The Colonel took off his hat with his usual courtly bow, but he spoke noword in reply. 

When the last flutter of her dress had disappeared around the bend ofthe road, he walked slowly back toward the house. 

Half-way down the long avenue where she had stopped to rest, he sat downon the same rustic seat. He could feel her soft little fingers restingon his neck, where they had lain when he carried her to the gate. 

A very un-Napoleonlike mist blurred his sight for a moment. It had beenso long since such a touch had thrilled him, so long since any caresshad been given him. 

More than a score of years had gone by since Tom had been laid in asoldier's grave, and the years that Elizabeth had been lost to himseemed almost a lifetime. 

And this was Elizabeth's little daughter. Something very warm and sweetseemed to surge across his heart as he thought of the Little Colonel. Hewas glad, for a moment, that they called her that; glad that his onlygrandchild looked enough like himself for others to see the resemblance. 

But the feeling passed as he remembered that his daughter had marriedagainst his wishes, and he had closed his doors for ever against her. 

The old bitterness came back redoubled in its force. 

The next instant he was stamping down the avenue, roaring for Walker, his body-servant, in such a tone that the cook's advice was speedilytaken: "Bettah hump yo'self outen dis heah kitchen befo' de ole tigahgits to lashin' roun' any pearter. "

CHAPTER II. 

Mom Beck carried the ironing-board out of the hot kitchen, set the ironsoff the stove, and then tiptoed out to the side porch of the littlecottage. 

"Is yo' head feelin' any bettah, honey?" she said to the pretty, girlish-looking woman lying in the hammock. "I promised to step up tothe hotel this evenin' to see one of the chambah-maids. I thought I'dtake the Little Cun'l along with me if you was willin'. She's alwayswild to play with Mrs. Wyford's children up there. "

"Yes, I'm better, Becky, " was the languid reply. "Put a clean dress onLloyd if you are going to take her out. "

Mrs. Sherman closed her eyes again, thinking gratefully, "Dear, faithfulold Becky! What a comfort she has been all my life, first as my nurse, and now as Lloyd's! She is worth her weight in gold!"

The afternoon shadows were stretching long across the grass when MomBeck led the child up the green slope in front of the hotel. 

The Little Colonel had danced along so gaily with Fritz that her cheeksglowed like wild roses. She made a quaint little picture with such shortsunny hair and dark eyes shining out from under the broad-brimmed whitehat she wore. 

Several ladies who were sitting on the shady piazza, busy with theirembroidery, noticed her admiringly. "It's Elizabeth Lloyd's littledaughter, " one of them explained. "Don't you remember what a scene therewas some years ago when she married a New York man? Sherman, I believe, his name was, Jack Sherman. He was a splendid fellow, and enormouslywealthy. Nobody could say a word against him, except that he was aNortherner. That was enough for the old Colonel, though. He hatesYankees like poison. He stormed and swore, and forbade Elizabeth evercoming in his sight again. He had her room locked up, and not a soul onthe place ever dares mention her name in his hearing. "

The Little Colonel sat down demurely on the piazza steps to wait for thechildren. The nurse had not finished dressing them for the evening. 

She amused herself by showing Fritz the pictures in an illustratedweekly. It was not long until she began to feel that the ladies weretalking about her. She had lived among older people so entirely thather thoughts were much deeper than her baby speeches would lead one tosuppose. 

She understood dimly, from what she had heard the servants say, thatthere was some trouble between her mother and grandfather. Now she heardit rehearsed from beginning to end. She could not understand whatthey meant by "bank failures" and "unfortunate investments, " but sheunderstood enough to know that her father had lost nearly all his money, and had gone West to make more. 

Mrs. Sherman had moved from their elegant New York home two weeks agoto this little cottage in Lloydsborough that her mother had left her. Instead of the houseful of servants they used to have, there was onlyfaithful Mom Beck to do everything. 

There was something magnetic in the child's eyes. 

Mrs. Wyford shrugged her shoulders uneasily as she caught their piercinggaze fixed on her. 

"I do believe that little witch understood every word I said, " sheexclaimed. 

"Oh, certainly not, " was the reassuring answer. "She's such a littlething. "

But she had heard it all, and understood enough to make her vaguelyunhappy. Going home she did not frisk along with Fritz, but walkedsoberly by Mom Beck's side, holding tight to the friendly black hand. 

"We'll go through the woods, " said Mom Beck, lifting her over the fence. "It's not so long that way. "

As they followed the narrow, straggling path into the cool dusk ofthe woods, she began to sing. The crooning chant was as mournful as afuneral dirge. 

 "The clouds hang heavy, an' it's gwine to rain. Fa'well, my dyin' friends. I'm gwine to lie in the silent tomb. Fa'well, my dyin' friends. "

A muffled little sob made her stop and look down in surprise. 

"Why, what's the mattah, honey?" she exclaimed. "Did Emma Louise makeyou mad? Or is you cryin' 'cause you're so ti'ed? Come! Ole Becky'lltote her baby the rest of the way. "

She picked the light form up in her arms, and, pressing the troubledlittle face against her shoulder, resumed her walk and her song. 

 "It's a world of trouble we're travellin' through, Fa'well, my dyin' friends. "

"Oh, don't, Mom Beck, " sobbed the child, throwing her arms around thewoman's neck, and crying as though her heart would break. 

"Land sakes, what is the mattah?" she asked, in alarm. She sat down on amossy log, took off the white hat, and looked into the flushed, tearfulface. 

"Oh, it makes me so lonesome when you sing that way, " wailed the LittleColonel. "I just can't 'tand it! Mom Beck, is my mothah's heart allbroken? Is that why she is sick so much, and will it kill her suah'nuff?"

"Who's been tellin' you such nonsense?" asked the woman, sharply. 

"Some ladies at the hotel were talkin' about it. They said thatgran'fathah didn't love her any moah, an' it was just a-killin' her. "Mom Beck frowned fiercely. 

The child's grief was so deep and intense that she did not know justhow to quiet her. Then she said, decidedly, "Well, if that's all that'sa-troublin' you, you can jus' get down an' walk home on yo' own laigs. Yo' mamma's a-grievin' 'cause yo' papa has to be away all the time. She's all wo'n out, too, with the work of movin', when she's nevah beenused to doin' anything. But her heart isn't broke any moah'n my neckis. "

The positive words and the decided toss Mom Beck gave her head settledthe matter for the Little Colonel. She wiped her eyes and stood up muchrelieved. 

"Don't you nevah go to worryin' 'bout what you heahs, " continued thewoman. "I tell you p'intedly you cyarnt nevah b'lieve what you heahs. "

"Why doesn't gran'fathah love my mothah?" asked the child, as they camein sight of the cottage. She had puzzled over the knotty problem all theway home. "How can papas not love their little girls?"

"'Cause he's stubbo'n, " was the unsatisfactory answer. "All the Lloydsis. Yo' mamma's stubbo'n, an' you's stubbo'n--"

"I'm not!" shrieked the Little Colonel, stamping her foot. "You sha'n'tcall me names!"

Then she saw a familiar white hand waving to her from the hammock, andshe broke away from Mom Beck with very red cheeks and very bright eyes. 

Cuddled close in her mother's arms, she had a queer feeling that she hadgrown a great deal older in that short afternoon. 

Maybe she had. For the first time in her little life she kept hertroubles to herself, and did not once mention the thought that wasuppermost in her mind. 

"Yo' great-aunt Sally Tylah is comin' this mawnin', " said Mom Beck, theday after their visit to the hotel. "Do fo' goodness' sake keep yo'selfclean. I'se got too many spring chickens to dress to think 'boutdressin' you up again. "

"Did I evah see her befo'?" questioned the Little Colonel. 

"Why, yes, the day we moved heah. Don't you know she came and stayed solong, and the rockah broke off the little white rockin'-chair when shesat down in it?"

"Oh, now I know!" laughed the child. "She's the big fat one with curlshangin' round her yeahs like shavin's. I don't like her, Mom Beck. Shekeeps a-kissin' me all the time, an' a-'queezin' me, an' tellin' me tosit on her lap an' be a little lady. Mom Beck, I de'pise to be a littlelady. "

There was no answer to her last remark. Mom Beck had stepped into thepantry for more eggs for the cake she was making. 

"Fritz, " said the Little Colonel, "yo' great-aunt Sally Tylah's comin'this mawnin', an' if you don't want to say 'howdy' to her you'll have tocome with me. "

A few minutes later a resolute little figure squeezed between thepalings of the garden fence down by the gooseberry bushes. 

"Now walk on your tiptoes, Fritz!" commanded the Little Colonel, "elsesomebody will call us back. "

Mom Beck, busy with her extra baking, supposed she was with her motheron the shady, vine-covered porch. 

She would not have been singing quite so gaily if she could have seenhalf a mile up the road. 

The Little Colonel was sitting in the weeds by the railroad track, deliberately taking off her shoes and stockings. 

"Just like a little niggah, " she said, delightedly, as she stretched outher bare feet. "Mom Beck says I ought to know bettah. But it does feelso good!"

No telling how long she might have sat there enjoying the forbiddenpleasure of dragging her rosy toes through the warm dust, if she had notheard a horse's hoof-beats coming rapidly along. 

"Fritz, it's gran'fathah, " she whispered, in alarm, recognizing theerect figure of the rider in its spotless suit of white duck. 

"Sh! lie down in the weeds, quick! Lie down, I say!" They both madethemselves as flat as possible, and lay there panting with the exertionof keeping still. 

Presently the Little Colonel raised her head cautiously. 

"Oh, he's gone down that lane!" she exclaimed. "Now you can get up. "After a moment's deliberation she asked, "Fritz, would you rathah havesome 'trawberries an' be tied up fo' runnin' away, or not be tied up andnot have any of those nice tas'en 'trawberries?"

CHAPTER III. 

Two hours later, Colonel Lloyd, riding down the avenue under thelocusts, was surprised by a novel sight on his stately front steps. 

Three little darkies and a big flop-eared hound were crouched on thebottom step, looking up at the Little Colonel, who sat just above them. 

She was industriously stirring something in an old rusty pan with a big, battered spoon. 

"Now, May Lilly, " she ordered, speaking to the largest and blackest ofthe group, "you run an' find some nice 'mooth pebbles to put in forraisins. Henry Clay, you go get me some moah sand. This is 'most toowet. "

"Here, you little pickaninnies!" roared the Colonel, as he recognizedthe cook's children. "What did I tell you about playing around here, tracking dirt all over my premises? You just chase back to the cabinwhere you belong!"

The sudden call startled Lloyd so that she dropped the pan, and thegreat mud pie turned upside down on the white steps. 

"Well, you're a pretty sight!" said the Colonel, as he glanced withdisgust from her soiled dress and muddy hands to her bare feet. 

He had been in a bad humour all morning. The sight of the steps coveredwith sand and muddy tracks gave him an excuse to give vent to his crossfeelings. 

It was one of his theories that a little girl should always be kept asfresh and dainty as a flower. He had never seen his own little daughterin such a plight as this, and she had never been allowed to step outsideof her own room without her shoes and stockings. 

"What does your mother mean, " he cried, savagely, "by letting you runbarefooted around the country just like poor white trash? An' what areyou playing with low-flung niggers for? Haven't you ever been taught anybetter? I suppose it's some of your father's miserable Yankee notions. "

May Lilly, peeping around the corner of the house, rolled her frightenedeyes from one angry face to the other. The same temper that glared fromthe face of the man, sitting erect in his saddle, seemed to be burningin the eyes of the child, who stood so defiantly before him. The samekind of scowl drew their eyebrows together darkly. 

"Don't you talk that way to me, " cried the Little Colonel, tremblingwith a wrath she did not know how to express. 

Suddenly she stooped, and snatching both hands full of mud from theoverturned pie, flung it wildly over the spotless white coat. 

Colonel Lloyd gasped with astonishment. It was the first time in hislife he had ever been openly defied. The next moment his anger gave wayto amusement. 

"By George!" he chuckled, admiringly. "The little thing has got spirit, sure enough. She's a Lloyd through and through. So that's why they callher the 'Little Colonel, ' is it?"

There was a tinge of pride in the look he gave her haughty little headand flashing eyes. "There, there, child!" he said, soothingly. "I didn'tmean to make you mad, when you were good enough to come and see me. Itisn't often I have a little lady like you pay me a visit. "

"I didn't come to see you, suh, " she answered, indignantly, as shestarted toward the gate. "I came to see May Lilly. But I nevah wouldhave come inside yo' gate if I'd known you was goin' to hollah at me an'be so cross. "

She was walking off with the air of an offended queen, when the Colonelremembered that if he allowed her to go away in that mood she wouldprobably never set foot on his grounds again. Her display of temper hadinterested him immensely. 

Now that he had laughed off his ill humour, he was anxious to see whatother traits of character she possessed. He wheeled his horse across thewalk to bar her way, and quickly dismounted. 

"Oh, now, wait a minute, " he said, in a coaxing tone. "Don't you wanta nice big saucer of strawberries and cream before you go? Walker'spicking some now. And you haven't seen my hothouse. It's just full ofthe loveliest flowers you ever saw. You like roses, don't you, and pinksand lilies and pansies?"

He saw he had struck the right chord as soon as he mentioned theflowers. The sullen look vanished as if by magic. Her face changed assuddenly as an April day. 

"Oh, yes!" she cried, with a beaming smile. "I loves 'm bettah thananything!"

He tied his horse, and led the way to the conservatory. He opened thedoor for her to pass through, and then watched her closely to see whatimpression it would make on her. He had expected a delighted exclamationof surprise, for he had good reason to be proud of his rare plants. Theywere arranged with a true artist's eye for colour and effect. 

She did not say a word for a moment, but drew a long breath, while thedelicate pink in her cheeks deepened and her eyes lighted up. Then shebegan going slowly from flower to flower, laying her face against thecool, velvety purple of the pansies, touching the roses with her lips, and tilting the white lily-cups to look into their golden depths. 

As she passed from one to another as lightly as a butterfly might havedone, she began chanting in a happy undertone. 

Ever since she had learned to talk she had a quaint little way ofsinging to herself. All the names that pleased her fancy she strungtogether in a crooning melody of her own. 

There was no special tune. It sounded happy, although nearly always in aminor key. 

"Oh, the jonquils an' the lilies!" she sang. "All white an' gold an'yellow. Oh, they're all a-smilin' at me, an' a-sayin' howdy! howdy!"

She was so absorbed in her intense enjoyment that she forgot all aboutthe old Colonel. She was wholly unconscious that he was watching orlistening. 

"She really does love them, " he thought, complacently. "To see her faceone would think she had found a fortune. "

It was another bond between them. 

After awhile he took a small basket from the wall, and began to fill itwith his choicest blooms. "You shall have these to take home, " he said. "Now come into the house and get your strawberries. "

She followed him reluctantly, turning back several times for one morelong sniff of the delicious fragrance. 

She was not at all like the Colonel's ideal of what a little girlshould be, as she sat in one of the high, stiff chairs, enjoying herstrawberries. Her dusty little toes wriggled around in the curls onFritz's back, as she used him for a footstool. Her dress was draggledand dirty, and she kept leaning over to give the dog berries and creamfrom the spoon she was eating with herself. 

He forgot all this, however, when she began to talk to him. 

"My great-aunt Sally Tylah is to our house this mawnin', " she announced, confidentially. "That's why we came off. Do you know my Aunt SallyTylah?"

"Well, slightly!" chuckled the Colonel. "She was my wife's half-sister. So you don't like her, eh? Well, I don't like her either. "

He threw back his head and laughed heartily. The more the child talkedthe more entertaining he found her. He did not remember when he had everbeen so amused before as he was by this tiny counterpart of himself. 

When the last berry had vanished, she slipped down from the tall chair. 

"Do you 'pose it's very late?" she asked, in an anxious voice. "Mom Beckwill be comin' for me soon. "

"Yes, it is nearly noon, " he answered. "It didn't do much good to runaway from your Aunt Tyler; she'll see you after all. "

"Well, she can't 'queeze me an' kiss me, 'cause I've been naughty, an'I'll be put to bed like I was the othah day, just as soon as I get home. I 'most wish I was there now, " she sighed. "It's so fa' an' the sun's sohot. I lost my sunbonnet when I was comin' heah, too. "

Something in the tired, dirty face prompted the old Colonel to say, "Well, my horse hasn't been put away yet. I'll take you home on MaggieBoy. "

The next moment he repented making such an offer, thinking whatthe neighbours might say if they should meet him on the road withElizabeth's child in his arm. 

But it was too late. He could not unclasp the trusting little hand thatwas slipped in his. He could not cloud the happiness of the eager littleface by retracting his promise. 

He swung himself into the saddle, with her in front. Then he put hisone arm around her with a firm clasp, as he reached forward to take thebridle. 

"You couldn't take Fritz on behin', could you?" she asked, anxiously. "He's mighty ti'ed too. "

"No, " said the Colonel, with a laugh. "Maggie Boy might object and throwus all off. "

Hugging her basket of flowers close in her arms, she leaned her headagainst him contentedly as they cantered down the avenue. 

"Look!" whispered all the locusts, waving their hands to each otherexcitedly. "Look! The master has his own again. The dear old times arecoming back to us. "

"How the trees blow!" exclaimed the child, looking up at the green archoverhead. "See! They's all a-noddin' to each othah. " "We'll have to getmy shoes an' 'tockin's, " she said, presently, when they were nearlyhome. "They're in that fence cawnah behin' a log. "

The Colonel obediently got down and handed them to her. As he mountedagain he saw a carriage coming toward them. He recognized one of hisnearest neighbours. Striking the astonished Maggie Boy with his spur, he turned her across the railroad track, down the steep embankment, andinto an unfrequented lane. 

"This road is just back of your garden, " he said. "Can you get throughthe fence if I take you there?"

"That's the way we came out, " was the answer. "See that hole where thepalin's are off?"

Just as he was about to lift her down, she put one arm around his neck, and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Good-bye, gran'fatha', " she said, in her most winning way. "I've had a mighty nice time. " Then she added, in a lower tone, "'Kuse me fo' throwin' mud on yo' coat. "

He held her close a moment, thinking nothing had ever before been halfso sweet as the way she called him grandfather. 

From that moment his heart went out to her as it had to little Tom andElizabeth. It made no difference if her mother had forfeited his love. It made no difference if Jack Sherman was her father, and that the twomen heartily hated each other. 

It was his own little grandchild he held in his arms. 

She had sealed the relationship with a trusting kiss. 

"Child, " he said, huskily, "you will come and see me again, won't you, no matter if they do tell you not to? You shall have all the flowers andberries you want, and you can ride Maggie Boy as often as you please. "

She looked up into his face. It was very familiar to her. She had lookedat his portrait often, unconsciously recognizing a kindred spirit thatshe longed to know. 

Her ideas of grandfathers, gained from stories and observation, led herto class them with fairy godmothers. She had always wished for one. 

The day they moved to Lloydsborough, Locust had been pointed out to heras her grandfather's home. From that time on she slipped away withFritz on every possible occasion to peer through the gate, hoping for aglimpse of him. 

"Yes, I'll come suah!" she promised. "I likes you just lots, gran'fathah!" He watched her scramble through the hole in the fence. Then he turned his horse's head slowly homeward. 

A scrap of white lying on the grass attracted his attention as he nearedthe gate. 

"It's the lost sunbonnet, " he said, with a smile. He carried it into thehouse, and hung it on the hat-rack in the wide front hall. 

"Ole marse is crosser'n two sticks, " growled Walker to the cook atdinner. "There ain't no livin' with him. What do you s'pose is themattah?"

CHAPTER IV. 

Mom Beck was busy putting lunch on the table when the Little Colonellooked in at the kitchen door. 

So she did not see a little tramp, carrying her shoes in one hand, and abasket in the other, who paused there a moment. But when she took up thepan of beaten biscuit she was puzzled to find that several were missing. 

"It beats my time, " she said, aloud. "The parrot couldn't have reachedthem, an' Lloyd an' the dog have been in the pa'lah all mawnin'. Somethin' has jus' natch'ly done sperrited 'em away. "

Fritz was gravely licking his lips, and the Little Colonel had her mouthfull, when they suddenly made their appearance on the front porch. 

Aunt Sally Tyler gave a little shriek, and stopped rocking. 

"Why, Lloyd Sherman!" gasped her mother, in dismay. "Where have youbeen? I thought you were with Becky all the time. I was sure I heard yousinging out there a little while ago. "

"I've been to see my gran'fathah, " said the child, speaking very fast. "I made mud pies on his front 'teps, an' we both of us got mad, an'I throwed mud on him, an' he gave me some 'trawberries an' all theseflowers, an' brought me home on Maggie Boy. "

She stopped out of breath. Mrs. Tyler and her niece exchanged astonishedglances. 

"But, baby, how could you disgrace mother so by going up there lookinglike a dirty little beggar?"

"He didn't care, " replied Lloyd, calmly. "He made me promise to comeagain, no mattah if you all did tell me not to. "

Just then Becky announced that lunch was ready, and carried the childaway to make her presentable. 

To Lloyd's great surprise she was not put to bed, but was allowed to goto the table as soon as she was dressed. It was not long until she hadtold every detail of the morning's experience. 

While she was taking her afternoon nap, the two ladies sat out on theporch, gravely discussing all she had told them. 

"It doesn't seem right for me to allow her to go there, " said Mrs. Sherman, "after the way papa has treated us. I can never forgive himfor all the terrible things he has said about Jack, and I know Jack cannever be friends with him on account of what he has said about me. Hehas been so harsh and unjust that I don't want my little Lloyd to haveanything to do with him. I wouldn't for worlds have him think that Iencouraged her going there. "

"Well, yes, I know, " answered her aunt, slowly. "But there are somethings to consider besides your pride, Elizabeth. There's the childherself, you know. Now that Jack has lost so much, and your prospectsare so uncertain, you ought to think of her interests. It would be apity for Locust to go to strangers when it has been in your family forso many generations. That's what it certainly will do unless somethingturns up to interfere. Old Judge Woodard told me himself that yourfather had made a will, leaving everything he owns to some medicalinstitution. Imagine Locust being turned into a sanitarium or atraining-school for nurses!"

"Dear old place!" said Mrs. Sherman, with tears in her eyes. "No oneever had a happier childhood than I passed under these old locusts. Every tree seems like a friend. I would be glad for Lloyd to enjoy theplace as I did. "

"I'd let her go as much as she pleases, Elizabeth. She's so much likethe old Colonel that they ought to understand each other, and get alongcapitally. Who knows, it might end in you all making up some day. "

Mrs. Sherman raised her head haughtily. "No, indeed, Aunt Sally. I canforgive and forget much, but you are greatly mistaken if you think I cango to such lengths as that. He closed his doors against me with a curse, for no reason on earth but that the man I loved was born north of theMason and Dixon line. There never was a nobler man living than Jack, and papa would have seen it if he hadn't deliberately shut his eyes andrefused to look at him. He was just prejudiced and stubborn. "

Aunt Sally said nothing, but her thoughts took the shape of Mom Beck'sdeclaration, "The Lloyds is all stubborn. "

"I wouldn't go through his gate now if he got down on his knees andbegged me, " continued Elizabeth, hotly. 

"It's too bad, " exclaimed her aunt; "he was always so perfectly devotedto 'little daughter, ' as he used to call you. I don't like him myself. We never could get along together at all, because he is so high-strungand overbearing. But I know it would have made your poor mother mightyunhappy if she could have foreseen all this. "

Elizabeth sat with the tears dropping down on her little white hands, as her aunt proceeded to work on her sympathies in every way she couldthink of. 

Presently Lloyd came out all fresh and rosy from her long nap, and wentto play in the shade of the great beech-trees that guarded the cottage. 

"I never saw a child with such influence over animals, " said her mother, as Lloyd came around the house with the parrot perched on the broom shewas carrying. "She'll walk right up to any strange dog and make friendswith it, no matter how savage-looking it is. And there's Polly, so oldand cross that she screams and scolds dreadfully if any of us go nearher. But Lloyd dresses her up in doll's clothes, puts paper bonnets onher, and makes her just as uncomfortable as she pleases. Look! that isone of her favourite amusements. "

The Little Colonel squeezed the parrot into a tiny doll carriage, andbegan to trundle it back and forth as fast as she could run. 

"Ha! ha!" screamed the bird. "Polly is a lady! Oh, Lordy! I'm so happy!"

"She caught that from the washerwoman, " laughed Mrs. Sherman. "I shouldthink the poor thing would be dizzy from whirling around so fast. "

"Quit that, chillun; stop yo' fussin', " screamed Polly, as Lloyd grabbedher up and began to pin a shawl around her neck. She clucked angrily, but never once attempted to snap at the dimpled fingers that squeezedher tight. Suddenly, as if her patience was completely exhausted, sheuttered a disdainful "Oh, pshaw!" and flew up into an old cedar-tree. 

"Mothah! Polly won't play with me any moah, " shrieked the child, flyinginto a rage. She stamped and scowled and grew red in the face. Then shebegan beating the trunk of the tree with the old broom she had beencarrying. 

"Did you ever see anything so much like the old Colonel?" said Mrs. Tyler, in astonishment. "I wonder if she acted that way this morning. "

"I don't doubt it at all, " answered Mrs. Sherman. "She'll be over it injust a moment. These little spells never last long. "

Mrs. Sherman was right. In a few moments Lloyd came up the walk, singing. 

"I wish you'd tell me a pink story, " she said, coaxingly, as she leanedagainst her mother's knee. 

"Not now, dear; don't you see that I am busy talking to Aunt Sally? Runand ask Mom Beck for one. "

"What on earth does she mean by a pink story?" asked Mrs. Tyler. 

"Oh, she is so fond of colours. She is always asking for a pink or ablue or a white story. She wants everything in the story tinged withwhatever colour she chooses, --dresses, parasols, flowers, sky, even theicing on the cakes and the paper on the walls. "

"What an odd little thing she is!" exclaimed Mrs. Tyler. "Isn't she lotsof company for you?"

She need not have asked that question if she could have seen them thatevening, sitting together in the early twilight. 

Lloyd was in her mother's lap, leaning her head against her shoulderas they rocked slowly back and forth on the dark porch. 

There was an occasional rattle of wheels along the road, a twitter ofsleepy birds, a distant croaking of frogs. 

Mom Beck's voice floated in from the kitchen, where she was steppingbriskly around. 

 "Oh, the clouds hang heavy, an' it's gwine to rain. Fa'well, my dyin' friends, "

she sang. 

Lloyd put her arms closer around her mother's neck. 

"Let's talk about Papa Jack, " she said. "What you 'pose he's doin' now, 'way out West?"

Elizabeth, feeling like a tired, homesick child herself, held her close, and was comforted as she listened to the sweet little voice talkingabout the absent father. 

The moon came up after awhile, and streamed in through the vines ofthe porch. The hazel eyes slowly closed as Elizabeth began to hum anold-time negro lullaby. 

"Wondah if she'll run away to-morrow, " whispered Mom Beck, as she cameout to carry her in the house. 

"Who'd evah think now, lookin' at her pretty, innocent face, that shecould be so naughty? Bless her little soul!"

The kind old black face was laid lovingly a moment against the fair, soft cheek of the Little Colonel. Then she lifted her in her strongarms, and carried her gently away to bed. 

CHAPTER V. 

Summer lingers long among the Kentucky hills. Each passing day seemedfairer than the last to the Little Colonel, who had never before knownanything of country life. 

Roses climbed up and almost hid the small white cottage. Red birdssang in the woodbine. Squirrels chattered in the beeches. She wasout-of-doors all day long. 

Sometimes she spent hours watching the ants carry away the sugar shesprinkled for them. Sometimes she caught flies for an old spider thathad his den under the porch steps. "He is an ogah" (ogre), she explainedto Fritz. "He's bewitched me so's I have to kill whole families of fliesfor him to eat. "

She was always busy and always happy. 

Before June was half over it got to be a common occurrence for Walkerto ride up to the gate on the Colonel's horse. The excuse was always tohave a passing word with Mom Beck. But before he rode away, the LittleColonel was generally mounted in front of him. It was not long beforeshe felt almost as much at home at Locust as she did at the cottage. 

The neighbours began to comment on it after awhile. "He will surely makeup with Elizabeth at this rate, " they said. But at the end of the summerthe father and daughter had not even had a passing glimpse of eachother. One day, late in September, as the Little Colonel clattered upand down the hall with her grandfather's spur buckled on her tiny foot, she called back over her shoulder: "Papa Jack's comin' home to-morrow. "

The Colonel paid no attention. 

"I say, " she repeated, "Papa Jack's comin' home to-morrow. "

"Well, " was the gruff response. "Why couldn't he stay where he was? Isuppose you won't want to come here any more after he gets back. "

"No, I 'pose not, " she answered, so carelessly that he was conscious ofa very jealous feeling. 

"Chilluns always like to stay with their fathahs when they's nice as myPapa Jack is. "

The old man growled something behind his newspaper that she did nothear. He would have been glad to choke this man who had come between himand his only child, and he hated him worse than ever when he realizedwhat a large place he held in Lloyd's little heart. 

She did not go back to Locust the next day, nor for weeks after that. 

She was up almost as soon as Mom Beck next morning, thoroughly enjoyingthe bustle of preparation. 

She had a finger in everything, from polishing the silver to turning theice-cream freezer. 

Even Fritz was scrubbed till he came out of his bath with his curls allwhite and shining. He was proud of himself, from his silky bangs to thetip of his tasselled tail. 

Just before train time, the Little Colonel stuck his collar full of latepink roses, and stood back to admire the effect. Her mother came to thedoor, dressed for the evening. She wore an airy-looking dress of thepalest, softest blue. There was a white rosebud caught in her dark hair. A bright colour, as fresh as Lloyd's own, tinged her cheeks, and theglad light in her brown eyes made them unusually brilliant. 

Lloyd jumped up and threw her arms about her. "Oh, mothah, " she cried, "you an' Fritz is so bu'ful!"

The engine whistled up the road at the crossing. "Come, we have justtime to get to the station, " said Mrs. Sherman, holding out her hand. 

They went through the gate, down the narrow path that ran beside thedusty road. The train had just stopped in front of the little stationwhen they reached it. 

A number of gentlemen, coming out from the city to spend Sunday at thehotel, came down the steps. They glanced admiringly from the beautiful, girlish face of the mother to the happy child dancing impatiently up anddown at her side. They could not help smiling at Fritz as he friskedabout in his imposing rose-collar. 

"Why, where's Papa Jack?" asked Lloyd, in distress, as passenger afterpassenger stepped down. "Isn't he goin' to come?"

The tears were beginning to gather in her eyes, when she saw him in thedoor of the car; not hurrying along to meet them as he always used tocome, so full of life and vigour, but leaning heavily on the porter'sshoulder, looking very pale and weak. 

Lloyd looked up at her mother, from whose face every particle of colourhad faded. Mrs. Sherman gave a low, frightened cry as she sprang forwardto meet him. "Oh, Jack! what is the matter? What has happened to you?"she exclaimed, as he took her in his arms. The train had gone on, andthey were left alone on the platform. 

"Just a little sick spell, " he answered, with a smile. "We had a fireout at the mines, and I overtaxed myself some. I've had fever eversince, and it has pulled me down considerably. "

"I must send somebody for a carriage, " she said, looking aroundanxiously. 

"No, indeed, " he protested. "It's only a few steps; I can walk itas well as not. The sight of you and the baby has made me strongeralready. "

He sent a coloured boy on ahead with his valise, and they walked slowlyup the path, with Fritz running wildly around them, barking a gladwelcome. 

"How sweet and homelike it all looks!" he said, as he stepped into thehall, where Mom Beck was just lighting the lamps. Then he sank down onthe couch, completely exhausted, and wearily closed his eyes. 

The Little Colonel looked at his white face in alarm. All the gladnessseemed to have been taken out of the homecoming. 

Her mother was busy trying to make him comfortable, and paid noattention to the disconsolate little figure wandering about the housealone. Mom Beck had gone for the doctor. 

The supper was drying up in the warming-oven. The ice-cream was meltingin the freezer. Nobody seemed to care. There was no one to notice thepretty table with its array of flowers and cut glass and silver. 

When Mom Beck came back, Lloyd ate all by herself, and then sat out onthe kitchen door-step while the doctor made his visit. 

She was just going mournfully off to bed with an aching lump in herthroat, when her mother opened the door. 

"Come tell papa good-night, " she said. "He's lots better now. "

She climbed up on the bed beside him, and buried her face on hisshoulder to hide the tears she had been trying to keep back all evening. 

"How the child has grown!" he exclaimed. "Do you notice, Beth, how muchplainer she talks? She does not seem at all like the baby I left lastspring. Well, she'll soon be six years old, --a real little woman. She'llbe papa's little comfort. "

The ache in her throat was all gone after that. She romped with Fritzall the time she was undressing. 

Papa Jack was worse next morning. It was hard for Lloyd to keep quietwhen the late September sunshine was so gloriously yellow and the wholeoutdoors seemed so wide awake. 

She tiptoed out of the darkened room where her father lay, and swung onthe front gate until she saw the doctor riding up on his bay horse. Itseemed to her that the day never would pass. 

Mom Beck, rustling around in her best dress ready for church, thatafternoon, took pity on the lonesome child. 

"Go get yo' best hat, honey, " she said, "an' I'll take you with me. "

It was one of the Little Colonel's greatest pleasures to be allowed togo to the coloured church. 

She loved to listen to the singing, and would sit perfectly motionlesswhile the sweet voices blended like the chords of some mighty organas they sent the old hymns rolling heavenward. Service had alreadycommenced by the time they took their seats. Nearly everybody in thecongregation was swaying back and forth in time to the mournful melodyof "Sinnah, sinnah, where's you boun'?"

One old woman across the aisle began clapping her hands together, andrepeated in a singsong tone, "Oh, Lordy! I'm so happy!"

"Why, that's just what our parrot says, " exclaimed Lloyd, so muchsurprised that she spoke right out loud. 

Mom Beck put her handkerchief over her mouth, and a general smile wentaround. 

After that the child was very quiet until the time came to take thecollection. She always enjoyed this part of the service more thananything else. Instead of passing baskets around, each person wasinvited to come forward and lay his offering on the table. 

Woolly heads wagged, and many feet kept time to the tune:

 "Oh! I'se boun' to git to glory. Hallelujah! Le' me go!"

The Little Colonel proudly marched up with Mom Beck's contribution, and then watched the others pass down the aisle. One young girl in agorgeously trimmed dress paraded up to the table several times, singingat the top of her voice. 

"Look at that good-fo'-nothin' Lize Richa'ds, " whispered Mom Beck'snearest neighbour, with a sniff. "She done got a nickel changed intopennies so she could ma'ch up an' show herself five times. "

It was nearly sundown when they started home. A tall coloured man, wearing a high silk hat and carrying a gold-headed cane, joined them onthe way out. 

"Howdy, Sistah Po'tah, " he said, gravely shaking hands. "That was a finedisco'se we had the pleasuah of listenin' to this evenin'. "

"'Deed it was, Brothah Fostah, " she answered. "How's all up yo' way?"

The Little Colonel, running on after a couple of white butterflies, paidno attention to the conversation until she heard her own name mentioned. 

"Mistah Sherman came home last night, I heah. "

"Yes, but not to stay long, I'm afraid. He's a mighty sick man, if I'many judge. He's down with fevah, --regulah typhoid. He doesn't look to melike he's long for this world. What's to become of poah Miss 'Lizabethif that's the case, is moah'n I know. " "We mustn't cross the bridge tillwe come to it, Sistah Po'tah, " he suggested. 

"I know that; but a lookin'-glass broke yeste'day mawnin' when nobodyhad put fingah on it. An' his picture fell down off the wall while I wassweepin' the pa'lah. Pete said his dawg done howl all night last night, an' I've dremp three times hand runnin' 'bout muddy watah. "

Mom Beck felt a little hand clutch her skirts, and turned to see afrightened little face looking anxiously up at her. 

"Now, what's the mattah with you, honey?" she asked. "I'm only a-tellin'Mistah Fostah about some silly old signs my mammy used to believe in. But they don't mean nothin' at all. "

Lloyd couldn't have told why she was unhappy. She had not understood allthat Mom Beck had said, but her sensitive little mind was shadowed by aforeboding of trouble. 

The shadow deepened as the days passed. Papa Jack got worse instead ofbetter. There were times when he did not recognize any one, and talkedwildly of things that had happened out at the mines. 

All the long, beautiful October went by, and still he lay in thedarkened room. Lloyd wandered listlessly from place to place, trying tokeep out of the way, and to make as little trouble as possible. 

"I'm a real little woman now, " she repeated, proudly, whenever she wasallowed to pound ice or carry fresh water. "I'm papa's little comfort. "

One cold, frosty evening she was standing in the hall, when the doctorcame out of the room and began to put on his overcoat. 

Her mother followed him to take his directions for the night. 

He was an old friend of the family's. Elizabeth had climbed on his kneesmany a time when she was a child. She loved this faithful, white-hairedold doctor almost as dearly as she had her father. 

"My daughter, " he said, kindly, laying his hand on her shoulder, "youare wearing yourself out, and will be down yourself if you are notcareful. You must have a professional nurse. No telling how long this isgoing to last. As soon as Jack is able to travel you must have a changeof climate. "

Her lips trembled. "We can't afford it, doctor, " she said. "Jack hasbeen too sick from the very first to talk about business. He always saida woman should not be worried with such matters, anyway. I don't knowwhat arrangements he has made out West. For all I know, the littleI have in my purse now may be all that stands between us and thepoorhouse. "

The doctor drew on his gloves. 

"Why don't you tell your father how matters are?" he asked. 

Then he saw he had ventured a step too far. 

"I believe Jack would rather die than take help from his hands, " sheanswered, drawing herself up proudly. Her eyes flashed. "I would, too, as far as I am concerned myself. "

Then a tender look came over her pale, tired face, as she added, gently, "But I'd do anything on earth to help Jack get well. "

The doctor cleared his throat vigorously, and bolted out with agruff good night. As he rode past Locust, he took solid satisfaction inshaking his fist at the light in an upper window. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Little Colonel followed her mother to the dining-room, but pausedon the threshold as she saw her throw herself into Mom Beck's arms andburst out crying. 

"Oh, Becky!" she sobbed, "what is going to become of us? The doctor sayswe must have a professional nurse, and we must go away from here soon. There are only a few dollars left in my purse, and I don't know whatwe'll do when they are gone. I just know Jack is going to die, and thenI'll die, too, and then what will become of the baby?" Mom Beck satdown, and took the trembling form in her arms. 

"There, there!" she said, soothingly, "have yo' cry out. It will do yougood. Poah chile! all wo'n out with watchin' an' worry. Ne'm min', oleBecky is as good as a dozen nuhses yet. I'll get Judy to come up an'look aftah the kitchen. An' nobody ain' gwine to die, honey. Don't yougo to slayin' all you's got befo' you's called on to do it. The goodLawd is goin' to pahvide fo' us same as Abraham. "

The last Sabbath's sermon was still fresh in her mind. 

"If we only hold out faithful, there's boun' to be a ram caught bythe hawns some place, even if we haven't got eyes to see through thethickets. The Lawd will pahvide whethah it's a burnt offerin' or ameal's vittles. He sho'ly will. " Lloyd crept away frightened. It seemedsuch an awful thing to see her mother cry. 

All at once her bright, happy world had changed to such a strange, uncertain place. She felt as if all sorts of terrible things were aboutto happen. 

She went into the parlour, and crawled into a dark corner under thepiano, feeling that there was no place to go for comfort, since theone who had always kissed away her little troubles was so heart-brokenherself. 

There was a patter of soft feet across the carpet, and Fritz poked hissympathetic nose into her face. She put her arms around him, and laidher head against his curly back with a desolate sob. 

It is pitiful to think how much imaginative children suffer throughtheir wrong conception of things. She had seen the little roll of billsin her mother's pocketbook. She had seen how much smaller it grew everytime it was taken out to pay for the expensive wines and medicines thathad to be bought so often. She had heard her mother tell the doctor thatwas all that stood between them and the poorhouse. 

There was no word known to the Little Colonel that brought such, thoughts of horror as the word poorhouse. 

Her most vivid recollection of her life in New York was something thathappened a few weeks before they left there. One day in the park she ranaway from the maid, who, instead of Mom Beck, had taken charge of herthat afternoon. 

When the angry woman found her, she frightened her almost into a spasmby telling her what always happened to naughty children who ran away. 

"They take all their pretty clothes off, " she said, "and dress them upin old things made of bed-ticking. Then they take 'm to the poorhouse, where nobody but beggars live. They don't have anything to eat butcabbage and corndodger, and they have to eat that out of tin pans. Andthey just have a pile of straw to sleep in. "

On their way home she had pointed out to the frightened child a poorwoman who was grubbing in an ash-barrel. 

"That's the way people get to look who live in poorhouses, " she said. 

It was this memory that was troubling the Little Colonel now. 

"Oh, Fritz!" she whispered, with the tears running down her cheeks, "Ican't beah to think of my pretty mothah goin' there. That woman'seyes were all red, an' her hair was jus' awful. She was so bony an'stahved-lookin'. It would jus' kill poah Papa Jack to lie on straw an'eat out of a tin pan. I know it would!"

When Mom Beck opened the door, hunting her, the room was so dark thatshe would have gone away if the dog had not come running out from underthe piano. 

"You heah, too, chile?" she asked, in surprise. "I have to go down nowan' see if I can get Judy to come help to-morrow. Do you think you canundress yo'self to-night?"

"Of co'se, " answered the Little Colonel. Mom Beck was in such a hurry tobe off that she did not notice the tremble in the voice that answeredher. 

"Well, the can'le is lit in yo' room. So run along now like a nicelittle lady, an' don't bothah yo' mamma. She got her hands fullalready. "

"All right, " answered the child. 

A quarter of an hour later she stood in her little white nightgown withher hand on the door-knob. 

She opened the door just a crack and peeped in. Her mother laid herfinger on her lips, and beckoned silently. In another instant Lloyd wasin her lap. She had cried herself quiet in the dark corner under thepiano; but there was something more pathetic in her eyes than tears. Itwas the expression of one who understood and sympathized. 

"Oh, mothah, " she whispered, "we does have such lots of troubles. "

"Yes, chickabiddy, but I hope they will soon be over now, " was theanswer, as the anxious face tried to smile bravely for the child's sake, "Papa is sleeping so nicely now he is sure to be better in the morning. "

That comforted the Little Colonel some, but for days she was haunted bythe fear of the poorhouse. 

Every time her mother paid out any money she looked anxiously to see howmuch was still left. She wandered about the place, touching the treesand vines with caressing hands, feeling that she might soon have toleave them. 

She loved them all so dearly, --every stick and stone, and even thestubby old snowball bushes that never bloomed. 

Her dresses were outgrown and faded, but no one had any time or thoughtto spend on getting her new ones. A little hole began to come in the toeof each shoe. 

She was still wearing her summer sunbonnet, although the days weregetting frosty. 

She was a proud little thing. It mortified her for any one to see herlooking so shabby. Still she uttered no word of complaint, for fear oflessening the little amount in the pocketbook that her mother had saidstood between them and the poorhouse. 

She sat with her feet tucked under her when any one called. 

"I wouldn't mind bein' a little beggah so much myself, " she thought, "but I jus' can't have my bu'ful sweet mothah lookin' like that awfulred-eyed woman. "

One day the doctor called Mrs. Sherman out into the hall. "I have justcome from your father's, " he said. "He is suffering from a severe attackof rheumatism. He is confined to his room, and is positively starvingfor company. He told me he would give anything in the world to have hislittle grandchild with him. There were tears in his eyes when he saidit, and that means a good deal from him. He fairly idolizes her. Theservants have told him she mopes around and is getting thin and pale. Heis afraid she will come down with the fever, too. He told me to use anystratagem I liked to get her there. But I think it's better to tell youfrankly how matters stand. It will do the child good to have a change, Elizabeth, and I solemnly think you ought to let her go, for a week atleast. "

"But, doctor, she has never been away from me a single night in herlife. She'd die of homesickness, and I know she'll never consent toleave me. Then suppose Jack should get worse--"

"We'll suppose nothing of the kind, " he interrupted, brusquely. "TellBecky to pack up her things. Leave Lloyd to me. I'll get her consentwithout any trouble. "

"Come, Colonel, " he called, as he left the house. "I'm going to take youa little ride. "

No one ever knew what the kind old fellow said to her to induce her togo to her grandfather's. 

She came back from her ride looking brighter than she had in a longtime. She felt that in some way, although in what way she could notunderstand, her going would help them to escape the dreaded poorhouse. 

"Don't send Mom Beck with me, " she pleaded, when the time came to start. "You come with me, mothah. "

Mrs. Sherman had not been past the gate for weeks, but she could notrefuse the coaxing hands that clung to hers. 

It was a dull, dreary day. There was a chilling hint of snow in the dampair. The leaves whirled past them with a mournful rustling. 

Mrs. Sherman turned up the collar of Lloyd's cloak. 

"You must have a new one soon, " she said, with a sigh. "Maybe one ofmine could be made over for you. And those poor little shoes! I mustthink to send to town for a new pair. "

The walk was over so soon. The Little Colonel's heart beat fast as theycame in sight of the gate. She winked bravely to keep back the tears;for she had promised the doctor not to let her mother see her cry. 

A week seemed such a long time to look forward to. 

She clung to her mother's neck, feeling that she could never give her upso long. 

"Tell me good-bye, baby dear, " said Mrs. Sherman, feeling that she couldnot trust herself to stay much longer. "It is too cold for you to standhere. Run on, and I'll watch you till you get inside the door. "

The Little Colonel started bravely down the avenue, with Fritz at herheels. Every few steps she turned to look back and kiss her hand. 

Mrs. Sherman watched her through a blur of tears. It had been nearlyseven years since she had last stood at that old gate. Such a crowd ofmemories came rushing up!

She looked again. There was a flutter of a white handkerchief as theLittle Colonel and Fritz went up the steps. Then the great front doorclosed behind them. 

CHAPTER VII. 

That early twilight hour just before the lamps were lit was thelonesomest one the Little Colonel had ever spent. 

Her grandfather was asleep up-stairs. There was a cheery wood firecrackling on the hearth of the big fireplace in the hall, but the greathouse was so still. The corners were full of shadows. 

She opened the front door with a wild longing to run away. 

"Come, Fritz, " she said, closing the door softly behind her, "let's godown to the gate. "

The air was cold. She shivered as they raced along under the barebranches of the locusts. She leaned against the gate, peering outthrough the bars. The road stretched white through the gatheringdarkness in the direction of the little cottage. 

"Oh, I want to go home so bad!" she sobbed. "I want to see my mothah. "

She laid her hand irresolutely on the latch, pushed the gate ajar, andthen hesitated. 

"No, I promised the doctah I'd stay, " she thought. "He said I could helpmothah and Papa Jack, both of 'em, by stayin' heah, an' I'll do it. "

Fritz, who had pushed himself through the partly opened gate to rustlearound among the dead leaves outside, came bounding back with somethingin his mouth. 

"Heah, suh!" she called. "Give it to me!" He dropped a small gray kidglove in her outstretched hand. "Oh, it's mothah's!" she cried. "Ireckon she dropped it when she was tellin' me good-bye. Oh, you deah olddog fo' findin' it. "

She laid the glove against her cheek as fondly as if it had been hermother's soft hand. There was something wonderfully comforting in thetouch. 

As they walked slowly back toward the house she rolled it up and put itlovingly away in her tiny apron pocket. 

All that week it was a talisman whose touch helped the homesick littlesoul to be brave and womanly. 

When Maria, the coloured housekeeper, went into the hall to light thelamps, the Little Colonel was sitting on the big fur rug in front of thefire, talking contentedly to Fritz, who lay with his curly head in herlap. 

"You all's goin' to have tea in the Cun'ls room to-night, " said Maria. "He tole me to tote it up soon as he rung the bell. "

"There it goes now, " cried the child, jumping up from the rug. 

She followed Maria up the wide stairs. The Colonel was sitting in alarge easy chair, wrapped in a gaily flowered dressing-gown, that madehis hair look unusually white by contrast. 

His dark eyes were intently watching the door. As it opened to let theLittle Colonel pass through, a very tender smile lighted up his sternface. 

"So you did come to see grandpa after all, " he cried, triumphantly. "Come here and give me a kiss. Seems to me you've been staying away amighty long time. "

As she stood beside him with his arm around her, Walker came in with atray full of dishes. "We're going to have a regular little tea-party, "said the Colonel. 

Lloyd watched with sparkling eyes as Walker set out the rareold-fashioned dishes. There was a fat little silver sugar-bowl with abutterfly perched on each side to form the handles, and there was aslim, graceful cream-pitcher shaped like a lily. 

"They belonged to your great-great-grandmother, " said the Colonel, "andthey're going to be yours some day if you grow up and have a house ofyour own. "

The expression on her beaming face was worth a fortune to the Colonel. 

When Walker pushed her chair up to the table, she turned to hergrandfather with shining eyes. 

"Oh, it's just like a pink story, " she cried, clapping her hands. "Theshades on the can'les, the icin' on the cake, an' the posies in thebowl, --why, even the jelly is that colah, too. Oh, my darlin' littleteacup! It's jus' like a pink rosebud. I'm so glad I came!"

The Colonel smiled at the success of his plan. In the depths of hissatisfaction he even had a plate of quail and toast set down on thehearth for Fritz. 

"This is the nicest pahty I evah was at, " remarked the Little Colonel, as Walker helped her to jam the third time. 

Her grandfather chuckled. 

"Blackberry jam always makes me think of Tom, " he said. "Did you everhear what your Uncle Tom did when he was a little fellow in dresses?"

She shook her head gravely. 

"Well, the children were all playing hide-and-seek one day. They huntedhigh and they hunted low after everybody else had been caught, but theycouldn't find Tom. At last they began to call, 'Home free! You can comehome free!' but he did not come. When he had been hidden so long theywere frightened about him, they went to their mother and told her hewasn't to be found anywhere. She looked down the well and behind thefire-boards in the fireplaces. They called and called till they were outof breath. Finally she thought of looking in the big dark pantry whereshe kept her fruit. There stood Mister Tom. He had opened a jar ofblackberry jam, and was just going for it with both hands. The jam wasall over his face and hair and little gingham apron, and even up hiswrists. He was the funniest sight I ever saw. "

The Little Colonel laughed heartily at his description, and begged formore stories. Before he knew it he was back in the past with his littleTom and Elizabeth. 

Nothing could have entertained the child more than these scenes herecalled of her mother's childhood. 

"All her old playthings are up in the garret, " he said, as they rosefrom the table. "I'll have them brought down to-morrow. There's a dollI brought her from New Orleans once when she was about your size. Notelling what it looks like now, but it was a beauty when it was new. "

Lloyd clapped her hands and spun around the room like a top. 

"Oh, I'm so glad I came!" she exclaimed for the third time. "What didshe call the doll, gran'fathah, do you remembah?"

"I never paid much attention to such things, " he answered, "but Ido remember the name of this one, because she named it for hermother, --Amanthis. "

"Amanthis, " repeated the child, dreamily, as she leaned against hisknee. "I think that is a lovely name, gran'fathah. I wish they hadcalled me that. " She repeated it softly several times. "It sounds likethe wind a-blowin' through white clovah, doesn't it?"

"It is a beautiful name to me, my child, " answered the old man, layinghis hand tenderly on her soft hair, "but not so beautiful as the womanwho bore it. She was the fairest flower of all Kentucky. There never wasanother lived as sweet and gentle as your Grandmother Amanthis. "

He stroked her hair absently, and gazed into the fire. He scarcelynoticed when she slipped away from him. 

She buried her face a moment in the bowl of pink roses. Then she wentto the window and drew back the curtain. Leaning her head against thewindow-sill, she began stringing on the thread of a tune the things thatjust then thrilled her with a sense of their beauty. 

"Oh, the locus'-trees a-blowin', " she sang, softly. "An' the moona-shinin' through them. An' the starlight an' pink roses; an'Amanthis--an' Amanthis!"

She hummed it over and over until Walker had finished carrying thedishes away. 

It was a strange thing that the Colonel's unfrequent moods of tendernesswere like those warm days that they call weather-breeders. 

They were sure to be followed by a change of atmosphere. This time asthe fierce rheumatic pain came back he stormed at Walker, and scoldedhim for everything he did and everything he left undone. 

When Maria came up to put Lloyd to bed, Fritz was tearing around theroom barking at his shadow. 

"Put that dog out, M'ria!" roared the Colonel, almost crazy with itsantics. "Take it down-stairs, and put it out of the house, I say! Nobodybut a heathen would let a dog sleep in the house, anyway. "

The homesick feeling began to creep over Lloyd again. She had expectedto keep Fritz in her room at night for company. But for the touch of thelittle glove in her pocket, she would have said something ugly to hergrandfather when he spoke so harshly. 

His own ill humour was reflected in her scowl as she followed Maria downthe stairs to drive Fritz out into the dark. They stood a moment in theopen door, after Maria had slapped him with her apron to make him go offthe porch. 

"Oh, look at the new moon!" cried Lloyd, pointing to the slendercrescent in the autumn sky. 

"I'se feared to, honey, " answered Maria, "less I should see it throughthe trees. That 'ud bring me bad luck for a month, suah. I'll go out onthe lawn where it's open, an' look at it ovah my right shouldah. "

While they were walking backward down the path, intent on reaching aplace where they could have an uninterrupted view of the moon, Fritzsneaked around to the other end of the porch. 

No one was watching. He slipped into the house as noiselessly as hisfour soft feet could carry him. 

Maria, going through the dark upper hall, with a candle held high aboveher head and Lloyd clinging to her skirts, did not see a tasselled tailswinging along in front of her. It disappeared under the big bed whenshe led Lloyd into the room next the old Colonel's. 

The child felt very sober while she was being put to bed. 

The furniture was heavy and dark. An ugly portrait of a cross old man ina wig frowned at her from over the mantel. The dancing firelight madehis eyes frightfully lifelike. 

The bed was so high she had to climb on a chair to get in. She heardMaria's heavy feet go shuffling down the stairs. A door banged. Then itwas so still she could hear the clock tick in the next room. 

It was the first time in all her life that her mother had not come tokiss her good night. Her lips quivered, and a big tear rolled down onthe pillow. 

She reached out to the chair beside her bed, where her clothes werehanging, and felt in her apron pocket for the little glove. She sat upin bed, and looked at it in the dim firelight. Then she held it againsther face. "Oh, I want my mothah! I want my mothah!" she sobbed, in aheart-broken whisper. 

Laying her head on her knees, she began to cry quietly, but with greatsobs that nearly choked her. 

There was a rustling under the bed. She lifted her wet face in alarm. Then she smiled through her tears, for there was Fritz, her own deardog, and not an unknown horror waiting to grab her. 

He stood on his hind legs, eagerly trying to lap away her tears with hisfriendly red tongue. 

She clasped him in her arms with an ecstatic hug. "Oh, you're such acomfort!" she whispered. "I can go to sleep now. "

She spread her apron on the bed, and motioned him to jump. With onespring he was beside her. 

It was nearly midnight when the door from the Colonel's room wasnoiselessly opened. 

The old man stirred the fire gently until it burst into a bright flame. Then he turned to the bed. "You rascal!" he whispered, looking at Fritz, who raised his head quickly with a threatening look in his wicked eyes. 

Lloyd lay with one hand stretched out, holding the dog's protecting paw. The other held something against her tear-stained cheek. 

"What under the sun!" he thought, as he drew it gently from her fingers. The little glove lay across his hand, slim and aristocratic-looking. Heknew instinctively whose it was. "Poor little thing's been crying, " hethought. "She wants Elizabeth. And so do I! And so do I!" his heartcried out with bitter longing. "It's never been like home since sheleft. "

He laid the glove back on her pillow, and went to his room. 

"If Jack Sherman should die, " he said to himself many times that night, "then she would come home again. Oh, little daughter, little daughter!why did you ever leave me?"

CHAPTER VIII. 

The first thing that greeted the Little Colonel's eyes when she openedthem next morning was her mother's old doll. Maria had laid it on thepillow beside her. 

It was beautifully dressed, although in a queer, old-fashioned stylethat seemed very strange to the child. 

She took it up with careful fingers, remembering its great age. Mariahad warned her not to waken her grandfather, so she admired it inwhispers. 

"Jus' think, Fritz, " she exclaimed, "this doll has seen my Gran'mothahAmanthis, an' it's named for her. My mothah wasn't any bigger'n me whenshe played with it. I think it is the loveliest doll I evah saw in mywhole life. "

Fritz gave a jealous bark. 

"Sh!" commanded his little mistress. "Didn't you heah M'ria say, 'Fo' deLawd's sake don't wake up ole Marse?' Why don't you mind?"

The Colonel was not in the best of humours after such a wakeful night, but the sight of her happiness made him smile in spite of himself, whenshe danced into his room with the doll. 

She had eaten an early breakfast and gone back up-stairs to examine theother toys that were spread out in her room. 

The door between the two rooms was ajar. All the time he was dressingand taking his coffee he could hear her talking to some one. He supposedit was Maria. But as he glanced over his mail he heard the LittleColonel saying, "May Lilly, do you know about Billy Goat Gruff? Do youwant me to tell you that story?"

He leaned forward until he could look through the narrow opening of thedoor. Two heads were all he could see, --Lloyd's, soft-haired and golden, May Lilly's, covered with dozens of tightly braided little black tails. 

He was about to order May Lilly back to the cabin, when he rememberedthe scene that followed the last time he had done so. He concluded tokeep quiet and listen. 

"Billy Goat Gruff was so fat, " the story went on, "jus' as fat asgran'fathah. "

The Colonel glanced up with an amused smile at the fine figure reflectedin an opposite mirror. 

"Trip-trap, trip-trap, went Billy Goat Gruff's little feet ovah thebridge to the giant's house. "

Just at this point Walker, who was putting things in order, closed thedoor between the rooms. 

"Open that door, you black rascal!" called the Colonel, furious at theinterruption. 

In his haste to obey, Walker knocked over a pitcher of water that hadbeen left on the floor beside the wash-stand. 

Then the Colonel yelled at him to be quick about mopping it up, so thatby the time the door was finally opened, Lloyd was finishing her story. 

The Colonel looked in just in time to see her put her hands to hertemples, with her forefingers protruding from her forehead like horns. She said in a deep voice, as she brandished them at May Lilly, "With mytwo long speahs I'll poke yo' eyeballs through yo' yeahs. " The littledarky fell back giggling. "That sut'n'y was like a billy-goat. We hadone once that 'ud make a body step around mighty peart. It slip upbehine me one mawnin' on the poach, an' fo' awhile I thought my haid wasbuss open suah. I got up toreckly, though, an' I cotch him, and when Idone got through, Mistah Billy-goat feel po'ly moah'n a week. He sut'n'ydid. "

Walker grinned, for he had witnessed the scene. 

Just then Maria put her head in at the door to say, "May Lilly, yo'mammy's callin' you. "

Lloyd and Fritz followed her noisily down-stairs. Then for nearly anhour it was very quiet in the great house. 

The Colonel, looking out of the window, could see Lloyd playinghide-and-seek with Fritz under the bare locust-trees. When she came inher cheeks were glowing from her run in the frosty air. Her eyes shonelike stars, and her face was radiant. 

"See what I've found down in the dead leaves, " she cried. "A little blueviolet, bloomin' all by itself. "

She brought a tiny cup from the next room, that belonged to the set ofdoll dishes, and put the violet in it. 

"There!" she said, setting it on the table at her grandfather's elbow. "Now I'll put Amanthis in this chair, where you can look at her, an' youwon't get lonesome while I'm playing outdoors. "

He drew her toward him and kissed her. 

"Why, how cold your hands are!" he exclaimed. "Staying in this warm roomall the time makes me forget it is so wintry outdoors. I don't believeyou are dressed warmly enough. You ought not to wear sunbonnets thistime of year. "

Then for the first time he noticed her outgrown cloak and shabby shoes. 

"What are you wearing these old clothes for?" he said, impatiently. "Whydidn't they dress you up when you were going visiting? It isn't showingproper respect to send you off in the oldest things you've got. "

It was a sore point with the Little Colonel. It hurt her pride enough tohave to wear old clothes without being scolded for it. Besides, shefelt that in some way her mother was being blamed for what could not behelped. 

"They's the best I've got, " she answered, proudly choking back thetears. "I don't need any new ones, 'cause maybe we'll be goin' awaypretty soon. "

"Going away!" he echoed, blankly, "Where?" She did not answer until herepeated the question. Then she turned her back on him, and startedtoward the door. The tears she was too proud to let him see were runningdown her face. 

"We's goin' to the poah-house, " she exclaimed, defiantly, "jus' as soonas the money in the pocketbook is used up. It was nearly gone when Icame away. "

Here she began to sob, as she fumbled at the door she could not see toopen. 

"I'm goin' home to my mothah right now. She loves me if my clothes areold and ugly. "

"Why, Lloyd, " called the Colonel, amazed and distressed by her suddenburst of grief. "Come here to grandpa. Why didn't you tell me sobefore?"

The face, the tone, the outstretched arm, all drew her irresistiblyto him. It was a relief to lay her head on his shoulder, and unburdenherself of the fear that had haunted her so many days. 

With her arms around his neck, and the precious little head held closeto his heart, the old Colonel was in such a softened mood that he wouldhave promised anything to comfort her. 

"There, there, " he said, soothingly, stroking her hair with a gentlehand, when she had told him all her troubles. "Don't you worry aboutthat, my dear. Nobody is going to eat out of tin pans and sleep onstraw. Grandpa just won't let them. "

She sat up and wiped her eyes on her apron. "But Papa Jack would diebefo' he'd take help from you, " she wailed. "An' so would mothah. Iheard her tell the doctah so. "

The tender expression on the Colonel's face changed to one like flint, but he kept on stroking her hair. "People sometimes change their minds, "he said, grimly. "I wouldn't worry over a little thing like that if Iwere you. Don't you want to run down-stairs and tell M'ria to give youa piece of cake?"

"Oh, yes, " she exclaimed, smiling up at him. "I'll bring you some, too. "

When the first train went into Louisville that afternoon, Walker wason board with an order in his pocket to one of the largest dry goodsestablishments in the city. When he came out again, that evening, hecarried a large box into the Colonel's room. 

Lloyd's eyes shone as she looked into it. There was an elegantfur-trimmed cloak, a pair of dainty shoes, and a muff that she caught upwith a shriek of delight. 

"What kind of a thing is this?" grumbled the Colonel, as he took out ahat that had been carefully packed in one corner of the box. "Itold them to send the most stylish thing they had. It looks like ascarecrow, " he continued, as he set it askew on the child's head. 

She snatched it off to look at it herself. "Oh, it's jus' like EmmaLouise Wyfo'd's!" she exclaimed. "You didn't put it on straight. See!This is the way it goes. "

She climbed up in front of the mirror, and put it on as she had seenEmma Louise wear hers. 

"Well, it's a regular Napoleon hat, " exclaimed the Colonel, muchpleased. "So little girls nowadays have taken to wearing soldier's caps, have they? It's right becoming to you with your short hair. Grandpa isreal proud of his 'little Colonel. '"

She gave him the military salute he had taught her, and then ran tothrow her arms around him. "Oh, gran'fathah!" she exclaimed, between herkisses, "you'se jus' as good as Santa Claus, every bit. "

The Colonel's rheumatism was better next day; so much better that towardevening he walked down-stairs into the long drawing-room. The room hadnot been illuminated in years as it was that night. 

Every wax taper was lighted in the silver candelabra, and the dim oldmirrors multiplied their lights on every side. A great wood fire threw acheerful glow over the portraits and the frescoed ceiling. All the linencovers had been taken from the furniture. 

Lloyd, who had never seen this room except with the chairs shrouded andthe blinds down, came running in presently. She was bewildered at firstby the change. Then she began walking softly around the room, examiningeverything. 

In one corner stood a tall, gilded harp that her grandmother had playedin her girlhood. The heavy cover had kept it fair and untarnishedthrough all the years it had stood unused. To the child's beauty-lovingeyes it seemed the loveliest thing she had ever seen. 

She stood with her hands clasped behind her as her gaze wandered fromits pedals to the graceful curves of its tall frame. It shone likeburnished gold in the soft firelight. 

"Oh, gran'fathah!" she asked at last in a low, reverent tone, "where didyou get it? Did an angel leave it heah fo' you?"

He did not answer for a moment. Then he said, huskily, as he looked upat a portrait over the mantel, "Yes, my darling, an angel did leave ithere. She always was one. Come here to grandpa. "

He took her on his knee, and pointed up to the portrait. The same harpwas in the picture. Standing beside it, with one hand resting on itsshining strings, was a young girl all in white. 

"That's the way she looked the first time I ever saw her, " said theColonel, dreamily. "A June rose in her hair, and another at her throat;and her soul looked right out through those great, dark eyes--thepurest, sweetest soul God ever made! My beautiful Amanthis!"

"My bu'ful Amanthis!" repeated the child, in an awed whisper. 

She sat gazing into the lovely young face for a long time, while the oldman seemed lost in dreams. 

"Gran'fathah, " she said at length, patting his cheek to attract hisattention, and then nodding toward the portrait, "did she love mymothah like my mothah loves me?"

"Certainly, my dear, " was the gentle reply. 

It was the twilight hour, when the homesick feeling always came backstrongest to Lloyd. 

"Then I jus' know that if my bu'ful gran'mothah Amanthis could come downout of that frame, she'd go straight and put her arms around my mothahan' kiss away all her sorry feelin's. "

The Colonel fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair a moment. Then to hisgreat relief the tea-bell rang. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Every evening after that during Lloyd's visit the fire burned on thehearth of the long drawing-room. All the wax candles were lighted, andthe vases were kept full of flowers, fresh from the conservatory. 

She loved to steal into the room before her grandfather came down, andcarry on imaginary conversations with the old portraits. 

Tom's handsome, boyish face had the greatest attraction for her. His eyes looked down so smilingly into hers that she felt he surelyunderstood every word she said to him. Once Walker overheard her saying, "Uncle Tom, I'm goin' to tell you a story 'bout Billy Goat Gruff. "

Peeping into the room, he saw the child looking earnestly up at thepicture, with her hands clasped behind her, as she began to repeat herfavourite story. "It do beat all, " he said to himself, "how one littlechile like that can wake up a whole house. She's the life of the place. "

The last evening of her visit, as the Colonel was coming down-stairs heheard the faint vibration of a harp-string. It was the first time Lloydhad ever ventured to touch one. He paused on the steps opposite thedoor, and looked in. 

"Heah, Fritz, " she was saying, "you get up on the sofa, an' be thecompany, an' I'll sing fo' you. "

Fritz, on the rug before the fire, opened one sleepy eye and closedit again. She stamped her foot and repeated her order. He paid noattention. Then she picked him up bodily, and, with much puffing andpulling, lifted him into a chair. 

He waited until she had gone back to the harp, and then, with onespring, disappeared under the sofa. 

"N'm min', " she said, in a disgusted tone. "I'll pay you back, mistah. "Then she looked up at the portrait. "Uncle Tom, " she said, "you be thecompany, an' I'll play fo' you. "

Her fingers touched the strings so lightly that there was no discord inthe random tones. Her voice carried the air clear and true, and thefaint trembling of the harp-strings interfered with the harmony no morethan if a wandering breeze had been tangled in them as it passed. 

 "Sing me the songs that to me were so deah Long, long ago, long ago. Tell me the tales I delighted to heah Long, long ago, long ago. "

The sweet little voice sang it to the end without missing a word. It wasthe lullaby her mother oftenest sang to her. 

The Colonel, who had sat down on the steps to listen, wiped his eyes. 

"My 'long ago' is all that I have left to me, " he thought, bitterly, "for to-morrow this little one, who brings back my past with every wordand gesture, will leave me, too. Why can't that Jack Sherman die whilehe's about it, and let me have my own back again?"

That question recurred to him many times during the week after Lloyd'sdeparture. He missed her happy voice at every turn. He missed her brightface at the table. The house seemed so big and desolate without her. Heordered all the covers put back on the drawing-room furniture, andthe door locked as before. 

It was a happy moment for the Little Colonel when she was lifted downfrom Maggie Boy at the cottage gate. 

She went dancing into the house, so glad to find herself in her mother'sarms that she forgot all about the new cloak and muff that had made herso proud and happy. 

She found her father propped up among the pillows, his fever all gone, and the old mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

He admired her new clothes extravagantly, paying her joking complimentsuntil her face beamed; but when she had danced off to find Mom Beck, he turned to his wife. "Elizabeth, " he said, wonderingly, "what do yousuppose the old fellow gave her clothes for? I don't like it. I'm nobeggar if I have lost lots of money. After all that's passed between usI don't feel like taking anything from his hands, or letting my child doit, either. "

To his great surprise she laid her head down on his pillow beside hisand burst into tears. 

"Oh, Jack, " she sobbed, "I spent the last dollar this morning. I wasn'tgoing to tell you, but I don't know what is to become of us. He gaveLloyd those things because she was just in rags, and I couldn't affordto get anything new. "

He looked perplexed. "Why, I brought home so much, " he said, in adistressed tone. "I knew I was in for a long siege of sickness, but Iwas sure there was enough to tide us over that. "

She raised her head. "You brought money home!" she replied, in surprise. "I hoped you had, and looked through all your things, but there was onlya little change in one of your pockets. You must have imagined it whenyou were delirious. "

"What!" he cried, sitting bolt upright, and then sinking weakly backamong the pillows. "You poor child! You don't mean to tell me you havebeen skimping along all these weeks on just that check I sent you beforestarting home?"

"Yes, " she sobbed, her face still buried in the pillow. She had bornethe strain of continued anxiety so long that she could not stop hertears, now they had once started. 

It was with a very thankful heart she watched him take a pack ofletters from the coat she brought to his bedside, and draw out a sealedenvelope. 

"Well, I never once thought of looking among those letters for money, "she exclaimed, as he held it up with a smile. 

His investments of the summer before had prospered beyond his greatesthopes, he told her. "Brother Rob is looking after my interests out West, as well as his own, " he explained, "and as his father-in-law is thegrand mogul of the place, I have the inside track. Then that firm I wentsecurity for in New York is nearly on its feet again, and I'll have backevery dollar I ever paid out for them. Nobody ever lost anything bythose men in the long run. We'll be on top again by this time next year, little wife; so don't borrow any more trouble on that score. "

The doctor made his last visit that afternoon. It really seemed as ifthere would never be any more dark days at the little cottage. 

"The clouds have all blown away and left us their silver linings, " saidMrs. Sherman the day her husband was able to go out-of-doors for thefirst time. He walked down to the post-office, and brought back a letterfrom the West. It had such encouraging reports of his business thathe was impatient to get back to it. He wrote a reply early in theafternoon, and insisted on going to mail it himself. 

"I'll never get my strength back, " he protested, "unless I have moreexercise. "

It was a cold, gray November day. A few flakes of snow were falling whenhe started. 

"I'll stop and rest at the Tylers', " he called back, "so don't be uneasyif I'm out some time. "

After he left the post-office the fresh air tempted him to go fartherthan he had intended. At a long distance from his home his strengthseemed suddenly to desert him. The snow began to fall in earnest. Numbwith cold, he groped his way back to the house, almost fainting fromexhaustion. 

Lloyd was blowing soap-bubbles when she saw him come in and fall heavilyacross the couch. The ghastly pallor of his face and his closed eyesfrightened her so that she dropped the little clay pipe she was using. As she stooped to pick up the broken pieces, her mother's cry startledher still more. "Lloyd, run call Becky, quick, quick! Oh, he's dying!"

Lloyd gave one more terrified look and ran to the kitchen, screaming forMom Beck. No one was there. 

The next instant she was running bareheaded as fast as she could go, up the road to Locust. She was confident of finding help there. Thesnowflakes clung to her hair and blew against her soft cheeks. All shecould see was her mother wringing her hands, and her father's whiteface. When she burst into the house where the Colonel sat reading by thefire, she was so breathless at first that she could only gasp when shetried to speak. 

"Come quick!" she cried. "Papa Jack's a-dyin'! Come stop him!"

At her first impetuous words the Colonel was on his feet. She caught himby the hand and led him to the door before he fully realized what shewanted. Then he drew back. She was impatient at the slightest delay, andonly half answered his questions. 

"Oh, come, gran'fathah!" she pleaded. "Don't wait to talk!" But he heldher until he had learned all the circumstances. He was convinced by whatshe told him that both Lloyd and her mother were unduly alarmed. When hefound that no one had sent for him, but that the child had come of herown accord, he refused to go. 

He did not believe that the man was dying, and he did not intend to stepaside one inch from the position he had taken. For seven years he hadkept the vow he made when he swore to be a stranger to his daughter. Hewould keep it for seventy times seven years if need be. 

She looked at him perfectly bewildered. She had been so accustomed tohis humouring her slightest whims, that it had never occurred to her hewould fail to help in a time of such distress. 

"Why, gran'fathah, " she began, her lips trembling piteously. Then herwhole expression changed. Her face grew startlingly white, and her eyesseemed so big and black. The Colonel looked at her in surprise. He hadnever seen a child in such a passion before. "I hate you! I hate you!"she exclaimed, all in a tremble. "You's a cruel, wicked man. I'll nevahcome heah again, nevah! nevah! nevah!"

The tears rolled down her cheeks as she banged the door behind herand ran down the avenue, her little heart so full of grief anddisappointment that she felt she could not possibly bear it. 

For more than an hour the Colonel walked up and down the room, unable toshut out the anger and disappointment of that little face. 

He knew she was too much like himself ever to retract her words. Shewould never come back. He never knew until that hour how much heloved her, or how much she had come to mean in his life. She wasgone hopelessly beyond recall, unless--He unlocked the door of thedrawing-room and went in. A faint breath of dried rose-leaves greetedhim. He walked over to the empty fireplace and looked up at the sweetface of the portrait a long time. Then he leaned his arm on the manteland bowed his head on it. "Oh, Amanthis, " he groaned, "tell me what todo. "

Lloyd's own words came back to him. "She'd go right straight an' put herarms around my mothah an' kiss away all the sorry feelin's. "

It was a long time he stood there. The battle between his love and pridewas a hard one. At last he raised his head and saw that the short winterday was almost over. Without waiting to order his horse he started offin the falling snow toward the cottage. 

CHAPTER X. 

A good many forebodings crowded into the Colonel's mind as he walkedhurriedly on. He wondered how he would be received. What if Jack Shermanhad died after all? What if Elizabeth should refuse to see him? A dozentimes before he reached the gate he pictured to himself the probablescene of their meeting. 

He was out of breath and decidedly disturbed in mind when he walked upthe path. As he paused on the porch steps, Lloyd came running around thehouse carrying her parrot on a broom. Her hair was blowing around herrosy face under the Napoleon hat she wore, and she was singing. 

The last two hours had made a vast change in her feelings. Her fatherhad only fainted from exhaustion. 

When she came running back from Locust, she was afraid to go in thehouse, lest what she dreaded most had happened while she was gone. Sheopened the door timidly and peeped in. Her father's eyes were open. Thenshe heard him speak. She ran into the room, and, burying her head in hermother's lap, sobbed out the story of her visit to Locust. 

To her great surprise her father began to laugh, and laughed so heartilyas she repeated her saucy speech to her grandfather, that it took theworst sting out of her disappointment. 

All the time the Colonel had been fighting his pride among the memoriesof the dim old drawing-room, Lloyd had been playing with Fritz and Polly. 

Now as she came suddenly face to face with her grandfather, she droppedthe disgusted bird in the snow, and stood staring at him with startledeyes. If he had fallen out of the sky she could not have been moreastonished. 

"Where is your mother, child?" he asked, trying to speak calmly. Witha backward look, as if she could not believe the evidence of her ownsight, she led the way into the hall. 

"Mothah! Mothah!" she called, pushing open the parlour door. "Come heah, quick!"

The Colonel, taking the hat from his white head, and dropping it on thefloor, took an expectant step forward. There was a slight rustle, andElizabeth stood in the doorway. For just a moment they looked into eachother's faces. Then the Colonel held out his arm. 

"Little daughter, " he said, in a tremulous voice. The love of a lifetimeseemed to tremble in those two words. 

In an instant her arms were around his neck, and he was "kissing awaythe sorry feelin's" as tenderly as the lost Amanthis could have done. 

As soon as Lloyd began to realize what was happening, her face grewradiant. She danced around in such excitement that Fritz barked wildly. 

"Come an' see Papa Jack, too, " she cried, leading him into the nextroom. 

Whatever deep-rooted prejudices Jack Sherman may have had, they wereunselfishly put aside after one look into his wife's happy face. 

He raised himself on his elbow as the dignified old soldier crossed theroom. The white hair, the empty sleeve, the remembrance of all the oldman had lost, and the thought that after all he was Elizabeth's father, sent a very tender feeling through the younger man's heart. 

"Will you take my hand, sir?" he asked, sitting up and offering it inhis straightforward way. 

"Of co'se he will!" exclaimed Lloyd, who still clung to hergrandfather's arm. "Of co'se he will!"

"I have been too near death to harbour ill will any longer, " said theyounger man, as their hands met in a strong, forgiving clasp. 

The old Colonel smiled grimly. 

"I had thought that even death itself could not make me give in, " hesaid, "but I've had to make a complete surrender to the Little Colonel. "That Christmas there was such a celebration at Locust that May Lillyand Henry Clay nearly went wild in the general excitement of thepreparation. Walker hung up cedar and holly and mistletoe till thebig house looked like a bower. Maria bustled about, airing rooms andbringing out stores of linen and silver. 

The Colonel himself filled the great punch-bowl that his grandfather hadbrought from Virginia. 

"I'm glad we're goin' to stay heah to-night, " said Lloyd, as she hung upher stocking Christmas Eve. "It will be so much easiah fo' Santa Clausto get down these big chimneys. "

In the morning when she found four tiny stockings hanging beside herown, overflowing with candy for Fritz, her happiness was complete. 

That night there was a tree in the drawing-room that reached to thefrescoed ceiling. When May Lilly came in to admire it and get her sharefrom its loaded branches, Lloyd came skipping up to her. "Oh, I'm goin'to live heah all wintah, " she cried. "Mom Beck's goin' to stay heah withme, too, while mothah an' Papa Jack go down South where the alligatahslive. Then when they get well an' come back, Papa Jack is goin' to builda house on the othah side of the lawn. I'm to live in both places atonce; mothah said so. "

There were music and light, laughing voices and happy hearts in the oldhome that night. It seemed as if the old place had awakened from a longdream and found itself young again. 

The plan the Little Colonel unfolded to May Lilly was carried out inevery detail. It seemed a long winter to the child, but it was a happyone. There were not so many displays of temper now that she was growingolder, but the letters that went southward every week were full of herodd speeches and mischievous pranks. The old Colonel found it hard torefuse her anything. If it had not been for Mom Beck's decided ways, thechild would have been sadly spoiled. 

At last the spring came again. The pewees sang in the cedars. Thedandelions sprinkled the roadsides like stars. The locust-trees tossedup the white spray of their fragrant blossoms with every wave of theirgreen boughs. 

"They'll soon be heah! They'll soon be heah!" chanted the Little Colonelevery day. 

The morning they came she had been down the avenue a dozen times to lookfor them before the carriage had even started to meet them. "Walkah, "she called, "cut me a big locus' bough. I want to wave it fo' a flag!"

Just as he dropped a branch down at her feet, she caught the sound ofwheels. "Hurry, gran'fathah, " she called; "they's comin'. " But theold Colonel had already started on toward the gate to meet them. Thecarriage stopped, and in a moment more Papa Jack was tossing Lloyd up inhis arms, while the old Colonel was helping Elizabeth to alight. 

"Isn't this a happy mawnin'?" exclaimed the Little Colonel, as sheleaned from her seat on her father's shoulder to kiss his sunburnedcheek. 

"A very happy morning, " echoed her grandfather, as he walked on towardthe house with Elizabeth's hand clasped close in his own. 

Long after they had passed up the steps the old locusts kept echoingthe Little Colonel's words. Years ago they had showered their fragrantblossoms in this same path to make a sweet white way for Amanthis'slittle feet to tread when the Colonel brought home his bride. 

They had dropped their tribute on the coffin-lid when Tom was carriedhome under their drooping branches. The soldier-boy had loved them so, that a little cluster had been laid on the breast of the gray coat hewore. 

Night and day they had guarded this old home like silent sentinels thatloved it well. 

Now, as they looked down on the united family, a thrill passed throughthem to their remotest bloom-tipped branches. 

It sounded only like a faint rustling of leaves, but it was the locustswhispering together. "The children have come home at last, " theykept repeating. "What a happy morning! Oh, what a happy morning!"