“Why Venus, come here!  What—­what—­what is this?”

“Why, la, Missus!” exclaimed Venus, while every feature brightened with joyful surprise, “If there ain’t my little comb, what I lost in the scuffle with Master Fred!  Who would have thought to find it here!”

“Who, indeed!” ejaculated the old lady, in a voice scarcely audible.

My grandmother did not leave her room that evening, and we were told that she was ill; while it is scarcely necessary to add that Fred never again interfered with any of Venus’ cookeries.  When repeating the story, he always dwelt upon the ridiculous tableau presented by the horrified looks of the old lady, as she pointed to the suspicious-looking article—­and the delight and surprise of Venus at recovering her lost property in such an unexpected manner.  He possessed a great talent for drawing; and before long, a caricature appeared, which was a most life-like representation of the whole scene.  My mother shook her head, and my father delivered a short, but expressive lecture upon the improper nature of mimicry; but in the midst of an edifying discourse Fred suddenly displayed the drawing in full view—­at which all the children burst into peals of laughter, and my father abruptly closed his sermon, and frowning sternly, walked into the library; but we could perceive a nervous twitching about the corners of his mouth, which looked very much at variance with the frown upon his brow.

My mother too, fixed her eyes steadfastly upon her sewing, and refused to look up; which Fred saucily told her was only because she knew she would laugh if she did.  We were then told that we had been naughty children, and sent out of the room; but somehow, we did not feel as though we had been very bad, or that our parents were very angry with us, and skipping along through the garden-walks, we next sent Jane almost into convulsions of laughter by a display of the picture.  Mamma, however, burned it before long; she said that it was highly improper to ridicule our grandmother, even if she had faults, and that we must bear with her kindly, and not forget how few pleasures she enjoyed.  Dear mamma! she was too kind—­too good; and often met with the fate of such—­imposition.

I once heard of a lady who went to a house to make a call, and stayed eleven years; this was somewhat similar to my grandmother’s case—­she came to pass the summer with us, and spent her life-time.  Whenever she spoke of going back to the South, my father urged her to stay, and gave convincing reasons why she should prolong her visit; and my mother, too, kindly reflecting that the old lady had no near relatives and seemed to enjoy herself with us, added her entreaties.  At last they told her that there was no reason why she should not stay altogether; and she appeared to think so too, for she stayed.  As we grew more accustomed to her we liked her better than at first; she told us long stories about the South, and related anecdotes of the greatness, and wealth, and distinguished position of her own family, which she considered superior to any in the United States.  Venus too came into more favor; and after a while we almost forgot the beef story.