Mrs. Anglesea was up with the sun the next morning. She replenished the smoldering fire from wood that she found in a box at the bottom of the closet. Then she threw open the front and side windows of her corner room, and looked out on the bright, crisp, winter morning.

The ground and the bare trees were glistening with white frost, and beyond and below stretched the blue waters of the bay, intensely blue now under the clear, winter sky.

“It’s a pretty place, but, whewew! how cold!” she said, with a shudder, as she pulled down the sash of the last window and turned to the fire.

She could hardly persuade herself to leave it, but, fearing she might be late for breakfast, she at length arose, and made her toilet, hastily and carelessly, with a few splashes of water on her face and neck and a hasty drying, interrupted in the middle to press the lavender-scented white damask to her face to inhale its fragrance. Then she ran a comb through the thick locks of her curly hair, which she finally bunched up into a big mass at the back of her head. At last she put on her clothes, and left her room, noisily banging the door in closing it.

There was no one in the upper hall. All the chamber doors leading from it were shut.

“I reckon they are all at breakfast, and the coffee will be stark cold when I get there. I wish they had waked me up, but I reckon they thought I was tired. I am never too tired to eat,” she muttered to herself as she went downstairs.

She hurried directly to the dining room, where she found a fine, open fire burning, and Luce engaged in setting the table.

“Why, Lord!” said the visitor. “Ain’t you had breakfast yet? I thought as I should be ever so late!”

“Dear me, ma’am! Is it you? W’y didn’t you ring?” inquired, in turn, the surprised negro woman.

“Ring? What should I ring for?” demanded the visitor, drawing a chair before the blazing fire, seating herself, putting her feet upon the fender, and pulling up the edge of her skirt to toast her shins.

Luce paused in her task of placing the knives and forks to look at the vandal.

“Why, ma’am, for somebody to come an’ wait on yer, an’ fix the fire, an’ fetch hot water, an’ that,” she said.

“Fiddle-de-dee! Wait on your granny!” said the stranger, holding her chubby hands over the fire, and rubbing them, with a sense of comfort.

But Luce had finished placing the knives and forks, and was now bringing china from a corner buffet.

“What’s that you have got in your hand there? Is it the sugar pot?” asked the intruder.

“Yes, ma’am,” answered the perplexed woman.

“Hold it here to me.”

Luce complied, and the visitor took the sugar bowl and poured from it a handful of white lumps, and returned it, saying:

“I reckon I’ll champ this sugar to pass away the time while I’m waiting for ’em to come down.”

“Ain’t you afeared it will take away your appetite for breakfast, ma’am?” inquired Luce.

“Take away my appetite? Ho! ho! ho! That’s a good un!” chuckled the guest, as she crunched the sugar in her strong, white teeth.

“Don’t yer think as yer’d be more comferable in de parlor, ma’am? Dere’s a splendid fire burning dere,” suggested Luce.

“No. I’m all right here. I feel just as ‘snug as a bug in a rug.’ Don’t mind, nigger. Go on and do your work.”

“Nigger!” Luce had never been so insulted in all her life before, yet she saw that the good-natured creature who was toasting herself before the fire did not mean to insult her.

“Say! I s’pose you’ve heard all about me, haven’t you?” inquired the latter.

“Ma’am?” questioned Luce, hardly knowing how to answer.

“I say, you know who I am, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. You are Col. Anglesea’s lady,” promptly replied Luce.

“‘Col. Anglesea’s lady?’ What do you mean by that, nigger? I am Col. Anglesea’s wife, I’d have you to know! Now, what did you mean by ‘lady’?” demanded the stranger, with spirit.

“I am sure, ma’am, I didn’t mean no offense wotsomdever. I meant to be more ’spectful in sayin’ lady,” soothingly replied Luce.

“Well, then, never do you call me a ‘lady.’ ‘Lady’ is too unsartain a word. I’m that man’s wife, not ‘lady.’”

“That’s true, ma’am, an’ I’m sorry as I made a mistake,” said Luce, more humbly, because of a secret irony.

“I s’pose you’ve heard all about that rumpus in the church?”

“Somefin’ of it, ma’am,” discreetly observed Luce.

“Only something of it? Well, then, I will tell you all about it. It will pass away the time while waiting for breakfast.”

Luce, divided between her curiosity and her love of gossip on the one hand, and her conscientious sense of propriety on the other, made no direct reply.

Mrs. Anglesea began at the beginning and rehearsed all her wrongs, just as she had done to the family in the drawing room on the previous evening.

Luce went in and out between the kitchen and the dining room, and to and fro between the sideboard, the buffet and the table, with a:

“’Scuse, ma’am,” every time she went out of hearing.

“How in the deuce can you attend to anything I am saying if you keep jumping around so?” demanded the narrator.

“’Scuse me, ma’am; I hears yer good enough, thank yer, ma’am; an’ I has to finish settin’ de table,” pleaded the woman.

“But you make me fidgety, having to turn my head around every minute after you.”

“Werry sorry, ma’am, but de family will ’spect de breakfas’ to be ready for ’em. It’s—it’s a habit dey gibs deirselbes, yer see, ma’am,” pleaded Luce. And at the same moment Jake appeared, with a large waiter in his hands, on which were set the hot edibles to be arranged on the table.

With the help of Luce, he put them all in place, and then took a big, brass bell, and rang it with all his might close to the head of the guest.

“Lord bless us! I like music, but not that sort!” cried the latter, clapping her fat hands over the thick, black curls that covered her ears.

Mr. and Mrs. Force came in, followed by all the family, with the exception of Odalite, who was still in bed, and little Elva, who had volunteered to stay with her.

“Oh, you are here, Mrs. Anglesea? I did not know. I had just sent a servant to call you to breakfast. I hope you slept well?” said the hostess, pleasantly.

“Splendid! Never turned in my bed all night. And how are you? And how is the young gal this morning?” inquired the visitor.

“We are all well, thank you. Will you take this seat, nearest the fire?”

“Oh, anywheres convenient. I don’t care where I sit.”

The other members of the family party greeted the visitor, and then seated themselves at the table.

The visitor was voluble, as usual, praising everything she tasted, and eating heartily of every dish.

When they all arose from the table, she shook the crumbs off her lap on the floor, turned to her hostess, and said:

“Now, old ’oman, if you’ve got any sewing to do, here’s the hands that can do it. I ain’t one to sit down and eat the bread of idleness, I tell you. So, if you have got any stockings to darn, or shirts to patch, or anything else to be done in the way of making or mending, just give it to me, and I’ll earn my keep, I tell you.”

Mrs. Force was so taken by surprise at this speech that she had to pause before replying:

“I thank you very much, but I should not like to trouble you.”

“Trouble! Why, you precious ninny, it would be the greatest of pleasure to me. Ain’t I making myself at home here? Same as one of you? Go along with you! Get me something to do!”

“Many thanks, but I fear I cannot find anything to-day.”

“I’ll find something, mamma,” Wynnette exclaimed, coming to the rescue. Turning to Mrs. Anglesea, she said:

“Dear ma’am, wouldn’t you like to come into the schoolroom with Miss Meeke and me and help us to tie up parcels for Christmas presents to the colored people?”

“Of course I will, if you want me to. But, Lord, that’s no work!”

“Oh, yes, it is. There are more than twenty parcels, little and big. And all the stores are in large bundles, and we have got to divide them fairly, and tie them up, and write the names on them. It will take us all the morning.”

“All right; I will go ’long of you, and help with the dividing and tying up. I don’t know about the names. I ain’t very good at writing,” said the guest, allowing herself to be carried off by Wynnette.

“How in the name of the Inscrutable could Anglesea ever have been tempted to marry such a woman? Was he drunk, I wonder?” whispered Abel Force to his wife.

The lady shook her head.

“I have given it up,” she replied.

Mrs. Force went upstairs, to send little Elva down to her breakfast, and to sit beside Odalite.

Mr. Force went into the little den at the back of the hall, where he kept his writing desk and account books and held interviews with his overseer or his attorney.