May too was enchanted with the thought of a winter in that lovely spot, and the society of her two sisters, and Elsie, who was almost as near.

But to return.  As soon as the children learned that the winter was really to be spent at Viamede, and that they would set off in a few days, the whole flock—­leaving their elders to settle the dry details—­hastened in quest of “mammy.”

They found her in the nursery, seated before a crackling wood fire, with little Herbert in her arms.

Quickly their news was told, and gathering round her, they plied her with questions about her old Louisiana home.

“Well, chillins,” she said, her old eyes growing bright with joy at the thought of soon seeing it again—­for of course she would be included in the party—­“it’s jes lubly as lubly kin be! de grand ole house, an’ de lawn, an’ de shrubbery, an’ de gardens, an’ fields, an’ orchards, an’ eberyting:—­yes, it am de lubliest place dis chile eber see.”

“Horses to ride,” said Eddie.

“Yes, Mars Eddie, hosses to ride, an’ kerridges to drive out in; ’sides a beautiful boat on de bayou, an’ fish dere dat you kin ketch wid a hook an’ line.  Ole Uncle Joe he kotch dem mos’ ebery day for de table, an Massa Ed’ard an’ Miss Elsie say dey’s bery fine.”

“And what else?” asked the eager voice of little Daisy Carrington.

“Oranges! ripe oranges growing out of doors on the trees!” cried her brother Harry, clapping his hands and capering about the room, smacking his lips in anticipation of the coming feast.

“Yes, chillins, orange trees on de lawn, an’ a ’mense orchard wid hundreds an’ millions ob dem on de branches an’ on de ground.  An’ den de gardens full ob roses an’ all lubly flowers, an’ vines climbin’ ober de verandas an’ roun’ de pillahs an’ de windows, an’ clar up to de roof.”

“Oh how sweet!” cried the children, their eyes dancing with delight.  “But Aunt Chloe, will there be room for us all?” asked Meta Carrington, who was next to Herbert in age.

“Yes, chile:  dere’s rooms, an’ rooms an’ rooms in dat house.”

“A play-room, mammy?” asked Eddie.

“Yes, chillins, a big room whar yo’ grandma used to play when she was a little chile.”

Mammy’s voice grew low and husky for a moment, and great tears stood in her eyes.  But she struggled with her emotion and went on, “Her dolls are dere yet, an’ de baby house ole marster hab made for her; an’ de beautiful sets ob little dishes, an’ a great many tings mo’; for she hab lots ob toys an’ neber destroyed nuffin.  An’ nobody eber goes dar but Aunt Phillis when she hab a clarin’ up time in dat part ob de house.”

“Yes,” said little Elsie, who had been as silent and intent a listener as though the tale were quite new to her, “mamma has told us about those things, and that they are always to be kept very carefully because they belonged to her dear mamma.”

“And we can’t ever play with them!” exclaimed Vi, “but mamma will show them all to us; she said she would when she takes us to Viamede.”