The weeks that followed, and Mam\' Lyddy\'s immersion in “Siciety” began apparently to justify Mr. Graeme\'s prophecy. A marked change had taken place in the old woman\'s dress, and no less a change had taken place in herself. She began to go out a good deal, and her manner was quite new. She was what a few weeks before she would have derided as “citified and airified.” At length Mrs. Graeme could not conceal it from herself any longer.

One evening as her husband on his return from his office threw himself on his chair with the evening paper, she brought up the subject.

“Cabell, it is true; you have noticed the change!”

“What? I have no doubt I have.” He glanced at his wife to see if she had on a new dress or had changed the mode of wearing her hair, then gazed about him rather uneasily to see if the furniture had been shifted about, or if the pictures had been changed; points on which his wife was inclined to be particular.

“The change in Mammy! Why, I should never know her for the same person.”

“Of course, I have. I have noticed nothing else. Why, she is dressed as fine as a fiddle. She is \'taking notice.\' She \'ll be giving Old Caesar a successor. Then what will you do? I thought that fat darky I have seen going in at the back gate with a silk hat and a long-tailed coat looked like a preacher. You \'d better look out for him. You know she was always stuck on preachers. He is a preacher, sure.”

“He is,” observed the small boy on the floor. “That \'s the Reverend Mr. Johnson. And, oh! He certainly can blow beautiful smoke-rings. He can blow a whole dozen and make \'em go through each other. You just ought to see him, papa.”

His father glanced casually at the cigar box on the table.

“I think I will some day,” said he, half grimly.

“I never would know her for the same person. Why, she is so changed!” pursued Mrs. Graeme. “She goes out half the time, and this morning she was so cross! She says she is as good as I am if she is black. She is getting like these others up here.”

Mr. Graeme flung down the paper he was reading.

“It is these Northern negroes who have upset her, and the fools like the editor of that paper who have upset them.”

Mrs. Graeme looked reflective.

“That preacher has been coming here a good deal lately. I wonder if that could have anything to do with it!” she said, slowly.

Her husband sniffed.

“I will find out.”

At that moment the door opened and in walked Mam\' Lyddy and a small boy in all the glory of five years, and all the pride of his first pair of breeches. The old woman\'s face wore an expression of glumness wholly new to her, and Mr. Graeme\'s mouth tightened. His wife had only time to whisper: “Now, don\'t you say a word to her.” But she was too late. Mam\' Lyddy\'s expression drove him to disobedience. He gave her a keen glance, and then said, half jocularly: “Old woman, what is the matter with you lately!”

Mam\' Lyddy did not answer immediately. She looked away, then said: “Wid me? Ain\'t nuttin\' de matter wid me.”

“Oh, yes, there is. What is it? Do you want to go home?”

She appeared half startled for an instant, then answered more sharply: “Nor, I don\'t wan\' go home. I ain\' got no home to go to.”

“Oh, yes, you have. Well, what is the matter? Out with it. Have you lost any money!”

“Nor, I ain\' lost no money \'s I knows on.”

“Been playing lottery?”

“I don\' know what dat is.”

&ld............