“Are you not too much fatigued, daughter? and would it not be better to defer it till to-morrow?”

“I don’t think I’m too tired, papa; but if you forbid me——­”

“No, I don’t forbid or even advise, if you are sure you feel equal to the exertion.”

“Thank you, sir, I think I’ll be better able to sleep if I’ve seen at least the most of it; old memories are troubling me, and I want to see how far they are correct You will go with me?”

“Certainly,” he said, giving her his arm.  “But while the servants are obeying your order in regard to the lights, let us examine these paintings more attentively.  They will repay close scrutiny, for some of them are by the first masters.  Your Grandfather Grayson seems to have been a man of cultivated taste, as well as great business talent.”

“Yes, papa.  What is it, mammy?”

“Does you want me, darlin’?”

“No, not now.  Go and enjoy yourself with your husband and old friends.”

Chloe expressed her grateful thanks, and withdrew.

Elsie found the paintings and statuary a study, and had scarcely finished her survey of the drawing-room and its treasures of art, when Aunt Phillis came to ask if they would have tea served up immediately.

Elsie looked at her father.

“Yes,” he said; “you will feel stronger after eating, and it is about our usual time.”

“Then let us have it, Aunt Phillis.  How is that poor creature now?” asked her young mistress.

“Suse, honey? oh, she’ll do well ’nuff; don’t do her no harm to take some ob de lazy blood out.  Massa Spriggs not so terrible cross, Miss Elsie; but he bound de work git done, an’ Suse she mighty powerful lazy, jes’ set in de sun an’ do nuffin’ from mornin’ to night, ef nobody roun’ to make her work.”

“Ah, that is very bad; we must try to reform her in some way.  But perhaps she’s not well.”

“Dunno, missus; she’s always ‘plaining ob de misery in her back, an’ misery in her head; but don’t ebery one hab a misery, some kind, most days? an’ go on workin’ all de same.  No, missus, Suse she powerful lazy ole nigga.”

With that Phillis retired, and shortly after, tea was announced as ready.

Elsie played the part of hostess to perfection, presiding over the tea-urn with ease and grace, and pressing upon her father the numerous dainties with which the table was loaded.  She seemed to have recovered her spirits, and as she sat there gayly chatting—­of the room, which pleased her as entirely as the other, and of her plans for usefulness and pleasure during her stay, he thought he had never seen her look happier or more beautiful.

“What rooms have you prepared for your mistress, Aunt Phillis?” asked Mr. Dinsmore, as they rose from the table.

“De same whar she was born, massa, an’ whar her dear bressed ma stay when she livin’ heyah.”

A slight shadow stole over Elsie’s bright face.  “That was right,” she said, low and softly.  “I should prefer them to any others.  But where are papa’s rooms?”