The next morning Mrs. Garie was so much indisposed at to be unable to rise, and took her breakfast in bed.  Her husband had finished his meal, and was sitting in the parlour, when he observed a middle-aged coloured lady coming into the garden.

“Look, Caddy,” cried he, “isn’t this your mother?”

“Oh, yes, that is she,” replied Caddy, and ran and opened the door, exclaiming, “Oh, mother, they’re come;” and as she spoke, Mr. Garie came into the entry and shook hands heartily with her.  “I’m so much indebted to you,” said he, “for arranging everything so nicely for us—­there is not a thing we would wish to alter.”

“I am very glad you are pleased; we did our best to make it comfortable,” was her reply.

“And you succeeded beyond our expectation; but do come up,” continued he, “Emily will be delighted to see you.  She is quite unwell this morning; has not even got up yet;” and leading the way upstairs, he ushered Mrs. Ellis into the bedroom.

“Why, can this be you?” said she, surveying Emily with surprise and pleasure.  “If I had met you anywhere, I should never have known you.  How you have altered!  You were not so tall as my Caddy when I saw you last; and here you are with two children—­and pretty little things they are too!” said she, kissing little Em, who was seated on the bed with her brother, and sharing with him the remains of her mother’s chocolate.

“And you look much younger that I expected to see you,” replied Mrs. Garie.  “Draw a chair up to the bed, and let us have a talk about old times.  You must excuse my lying down; I don’t intend to get up to-day; I feel quite indisposed.”

Mrs. Ellis took off her bonnet, and prepared for a long chat; whilst Mr. Garie, looking at his watch, declared it was getting late, and started for down town, where he had to transact some business.

“You can scarcely think, Ellen, how much I feel indebted to you for all you have done for us; and we are so distressed to hear about Charlie’s accident.  You must have had a great deal of trouble.”

“Oh, no, none to speak of—­and had it been ever so much, I should have been just as pleased to have done it; I was so glad you were coming.  What did put it in your heads to come here to live?” continued Mrs. Ellis.

“Oh, cousin George Winston praised the place so highly, and you know how disagreeable Georgia is to live in.  My mind was never at rest there respecting these,” said she, pointing to the children; “so that I fairly teased Garie into it.  Did you recognize George?”

“No, I didn’t remember much about him.  I should never have taken him for a coloured man; had I met him in the street, I should have supposed him to be a wealthy white Southerner.  What a gentleman he is in his appearance and manners,” said Mrs. Ellis.

“Yes, he is all that—­my husband thinks there is no one like him.  But we won’t talk about him now; I want you to tell me all about yourself and family, and then I’ll tell you everything respecting my own fortunes.”  Hereupon ensued long narratives from both parties, which occupied the greater part of the morning.