“Not ezackly,” said Clam; “but if you’d tell, I could give a better guess.”

Elizabeth kept a vexed silence for a little while.

“Well Clam,” she said when she had made up her mind, “I have just one word to say to you —­ keep your tongue between your teeth about all my concerns.  You are quite wise enough, and I hope, good enough for that.”

“I ain’t so bad I mightn’t be better,” said Clam picking up her mistress’s scattered things.  “Mr. Winthrop didn’t give up all hopes of me.  I ’spect he’ll bring us all right some of these days.”

With which sentence, delivered in a most oracular and encouraging tone, Clam departed; for Elizabeth made no answer thereto.

The next morning, after having securely locked herself into her room for an hour or more, Elizabeth summoned her handmaid.

“I want you to put on your bonnet, Clam, and take this note for me up to Mr. Landholm’s; and give it with your own hand to him or to his sister.”

Clam rather looked her intelligence than gave any other sign of it.

“If he’s out, shall I wait till I see him?”

“No, —­ give it to his sister.”

“I may put on more than my bonnet, mayn’t I, Miss ’Lizabeth? This won’t keep me warm, with the snow on the ground.”

But Elizabeth did not choose to hear; and Clam went off with the note.

Much against her expectations, she found Mr. Winthrop at home and in his room, and his sister not there.

“Mornin’, Mr. Winthrop!” said Clam, with more of a courtesy than she ever vouchsafed to her mistress or to any one else whomsoever.  He came forward and shook her hand very kindly and made her sit down by the fire.  The black girl’s eyes followed him, as if, though she didn’t say it, it was good to see him again.

“What’s the word with you, Clam?”

“’Tain’t with me —­ the word’s with you, Mr. Winthrop.”

“What is it?”

“I don’ know, sir.  I’ve nothin’ to do but to bring it.”

“How do you do this cold day?”

“I ain’t cold,” said Clam.  “I bethought me to put my cloak on my shoulders.  Miss ’Lizabeth wanted me to come off with only my bonnet.”

And she produced the note, which Winthrop looked at and laid on the table.

“How is Miss Elizabeth?”

“She’s sort o’,” said Clam.  “She has her ups and downs like other folks.  She was down last night and she’s up this mornin’ —­ part way.”

“I hope she is pleased with you, Clam.”

“She ain’t pleased with anything, much,” said Clam; “so it can’t be expected.  I believe she’s pleased with me as much as with anything else in our house.  Last night she was cryin’ as if her head would split —­ by the hour long.”

“That is not part of your word to me, is it?”

“Not just,” said Clam.  “Mr. Winthrop, will you have me come back for an answer?”

“Did Miss Elizabeth desire it?”