Poor Phillis! she was in such spirits as she came home.  How pretty the flowers look!  She thought, after all, if I am a slave, the Lord is mighty good to me.  I have a comfortable home, and a good set of children, and my old man has done so much better of late—­Phillis felt really happy; and when she went in, and delivered all her parcels to the ladies, and was congratulated on her success in getting precisely the desired articles, her heart was as light as a feather.  She thought she would go and see how all went on at home, and then come back to the kitchen and drink a cup of good tea, for the family had just got through with theirs.

What a disappointment, then, to find any thing going wrong.  It was not that Bacchus’s society was so entirely necessary to her, but the idea of his having started on another spree.  The fear of his being brought home sometime to her dead, came over her with unusual force, and she actually burst into tears.  She had been so very happy a few minutes before, that she could not, with her usual calmness, make the best of every thing.  She forgot all about the pleasant day she had passed; lost her wish for a cup of tea; and passing even her pipe by, with a full heart she took her seat to rest at the door.  For some time every thing seemed to go wrong with her.  All at once she found out how tired she was.  Her limbs ached, and her arm hurt her, where she had carried the basket.  She had a great many troubles.  She had to work hard.  She had more children than anybody else to bother her; and when she thought of Bacchus she felt very angry.  He might as well kill himself drinking, at once, for he was nothing but a care and disgrace to her—­had always been so, and most likely would be so until they were both under the ground.

But this state of mind could not last long.  A little quiet, rest, and thought had a good effect.  She soon began again to look at the bright side of things, and to be ashamed of her murmuring spirit.  “Sure enough he has kept very sober of late, and I can’t expect him to give it up entirely, all of a sudden.  I must be patient, and go on praying for him.”  She thought with great pity of him, and her heart being thus subdued, her mind gradually turned to other things.

She looked at Aunt Peggy’s house, and wondered if the old woman was better off in another world than she was in this; but she checked the forbidden speculation.  And next she thought of Jupiter, and with this recollection came another remembrance of Bacchus and his antipathy both to the mistress and her cat.  All at once she recalled Bacchus’s determination to kill Jupiter, and the strange ferocity the animal evinced whenever Bacchus went near him; and she got up to take the key and survey the state of things at the deserted house.  There was no key to be found; and concluding some one had been after Jupiter, she no longer delayed her intention of finding out what had occurred in that direction.  She found the key in the door, but every thing was silent.  With some caution she opened it, remembering Jupiter’s last unexpected onset; when, looking round by the dim light, she perceived him seated opposite Aunt Peggy’s big chest, evidently watching it.  On hearing the door open, though, he got up and raised his back, on the defensive.