id="Page_17" class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 17]"/> she said to Mistress Brace, who was standing at a little distance:

"And when do lil Missy go outen to play?"

"Children have no need to waste time in playing," snapped Mistress Brace, and she glanced around, hoping Sally could not hear. "Don't you go a-talking! Sally's out o' doors nearly all the time; what more can she want, I should like to know?"

The old black woman shook her head several times, and looked sly and knowing, as she said in her sweet old voice:

"Jus' you keep lil Missy at work all de time and see what happen! Chillerns should have a good long play hour eb'ry day. Chillerns should hab their suppers right early, an' de chile dat have to work affer de supper's down her frote, doan't you go a-asting me what happen to de pusson dat makes her do de work! Doan't you go a-asting me dat!"

Mammy rolled her eyes, tossed up her dusky hands, and away she trundled as if things too dreadful to be spoken were in her mind. And Mistress Cory Ann for once forgot to scold, because of a creepy feeling that seemed travelling up her spine. She did not say a word then, neither was there danger that she might forget what Mammy Leezer had said.

Mammy lived in her cabin at "the quarters," at Ingleside, but was getting old and lame, and but little work was required of her. A famous cook and nurse she had been in her day, but now she had "de rheumatiz" in her "jints," and a touch of "de asthmy" often at night.

So beyond doing fancy cooking, when there was company at the mansion, or now and then tending some one who was ill, Mammy sat serenely smoking her pipe at the cabin door, while knitting socks "for de men folkses." And she declared herself "a berry comforable ole pusson," in spite of her aches and pains.

Oh, wonder of wonders! That night, to Sally's astonishment and great delight, did Mistress Cory Ann tell the child that "for reasons" she would herself wash the supper dishes, and she added:

"After this, whenever you have worked well through the day, I reckon I don't care what you do with yourself after supper, only that you need not stray far away; I might be wanting you."

Supper at Mistress Cory Ann's was not much of an affair, but as she boarded two or three hired men, plenty of dishes there always were to be washed, and nearly bedtime it would be before Sally could get cleared up.

But, now, oh, joy! as soon as that meal was over, Sally was to be free, free! Up she rushed to her cubby of a room in the attic, caught up a piece of looking-glass she had found one lucky day up by the great house, and peering at her own queer little image in the bit of mirror, she piped, in tones of great glee:

"Did you hear that, Sally Dukeen? Did'st hear that, little Mistress Sally!"

CHAPTER II.
THE GREAT HOUSE

Of all things lovely and full of fascination in Sally's little narrow world, everything in and about Ingleside stood far and away the highest in her eyes.

It was her delight, her admiration, her dream by day and her dream by night. Ingleside! With its wide-spreading mansion, its far-reaching plantation that was, after all, but a short run for an agile child from Slipside Row.

Had Sally known the meaning of such a word as "romance," which is a sweet and wonderful story, or happening, or dream, she would have known that the chief bewitchment of her life sprang from the dear romance that to her fancy was all about fair Ingleside.

Because, from the time that she had been brought to Slipside Row, when a bright little child of eight years, with a keen imagination and great love for all that was tasteful and beautiful, it had become the greatest charm she had ever known to race, whenever she could, through Lover's Lane and Shady Path, to some part of Ingleside.

Now, when it is told that the great house, the immense garden, the fields, stables, cabins, store-sheds, and far-reaching plantation of Ingleside formed the mansion and estate of one Colonial "place," you will understand that it was the home of a Southern planter.

For Maid Sally lived more than a hundred years ago, and in truth nearly half as long again. And Slipside Row was in the smiling South, on the border of Williamsburg, a town of the colony of Virginia. And the seat of government for all the colonies of America was at Williamsburg in those days. But there were few large towns anywhere in the country then.

It was common at that time for a man to own so large a place that it had a name of its own, and was a settlement of itself. Sir Percival Grandison, the master of Ingleside, had come from England, and as he wanted his place to remind him of the old country, he called it Ingleside. For in the sweet Scotch tongue, "ingleside" means "fireside," or ingle may mean fireplace, or chimney-corner; so you see it gave a home feeling to the place, calling it "Ingleside."

There was a large garden before the house, so wide and deep that quite a walk it was up the path of pebbles from the gate to the house. Here were great flower-beds, bordered around with thick green box, or with fragrant little pinks, or, perhaps, with tufts of white sweet alyssum. And here were all kinds, also, of rich, old-fashioned blooms: roses of damask, moss roses, the flush multiflora, and china rose; blush roses, wee Scotch roses, and the sweet white garden rose; great peonies, pink and red, sweet-william, marigolds, phlox, both pink and white, bachelor's-buttons, columbine, oleanders, large white magnolia blossoms, cockscomb, prim and fine, poppies, asters, portulacas, prince's-feather, snowballs, dahlias, and lilies of many kinds.

Dear, dear! how could one ever begin to tell of the loveliness and perfume of just one old-time garden, mignonette, fuchsias, heliotrope, and geraniums sending out their strong, delightful tints and fragrance with the rest?

Farther along, striped grass, mints, herbs and balsams made the air heavy with spicy odors when the dew was on the grass.

The mansion was built on the generous, old-time plan. There were high porches at the front, with white, fluted pillars, an enormous front door, with a fan-window over the top, and side-lights of high, narrow panes of glass. On the stoep, or stoop, were benches at the side, painted white, where one might sit out in the cool of the day.

Inside, immense fireplaces told of good cheer on chilly nights, when a bright wood fire made the big knobs on the burnished andirons, or "fire-dogs," seem as if alive with glancing light. Great sofas, wide, high-backed and deep, covered with tapestry or brocades, lace hangings, wide chairs, ottomans, antimacassars, or tidies, footstools, high-backed chairs, with seats wrought in worsted work, pier-glasses, reaching almost from floor to ceiling, pictures, a piano, something quite new then, a carpet, another new luxury, also a spinet, a kind of piano of wiry sound, a violin, and lute, all were in the ample drawing-room.

In the hall were portraits, some very old, and swords, ancient bows and arrows, and a few old battle scenes adorned the walls. The newels, or posts, at the foot of the banisters, bore great carved figures of sea-serpents and griffins, strange animals, part lion, part eagle.

The dining-room had always fresh white sand upon the floor, had also heavy carved furniture, and against the walls were pictures of hunting scenes, and many a pictured feast or revel.

Up-stairs were great square rooms with painted floor and home-made mats in