The darkies courtesied.  Their manners were of the old school.  Beth ran up to Maggie.

“I hope you’ll like me, Maggie, for I know I’ll like you.”

Maggie’s face beamed.  “Of cou’se, honey, I jes’ kan’t help likin’ yo’.  Yo’se de sweetest little missy I knows,” and then she added:  “Massa, I’se ‘sidered yore proposition, an’ me an’ Titus ’cided to stay.”

“All right, Maggie.  You can show Mrs. Davenport and the children around the house.”

Marian was willing to go with her mother, but Beth hung back.

“I don’t care for the house.  I want to see the front yard and river.  May I go, papa?”

“If you’ll come back in half an hour, you may go.”

“All right, papa,” and Beth was off like a flash around the corner of the house.  She was impatient to see everything in that half hour.  She felt that she needed a thousand eyes.  The trees bewildered her.  There were so many varieties she had never seen before—­magnolias with their wonderful glossy foliage; bamboos with their tropical stalks covered with luxuriant green; pomegranates; live-oaks and water-oaks; the wild olive with its feathery white blossoms, and many others.

The moss on the oaks swayed back and forth, seeming to murmur, “Beth, these trees are the best of playfellows.  Climb up here with us.  We’ll have great fun,” but she would not heed them.  There was too much to see.

All of a sudden, she stopped perfectly still.  She thought there must be a fairy up in one of the trees with the most wonderful voice she had ever heard.  Such singing, she thought, was too sweet to be human.

She looked up and beheld a bird of medium size, and of plain plumage.  It cocked its little head to one side, and eyed the child as if it knew no fear.  It sang on undisturbed.

“Beth,” this is what the warbler said to her, “come up into this beautiful tree with us.  Stay with us.”  The enticement of the bird, added to the fascination trees had for her, was almost too much for so little a girl to resist.  However, she put her fingers into her ears, and ran on.  But, she did not escape temptation thus.  Countless beds of roses, of geraniums, and of many other flowers tempted her to linger, and gather the fragrant blossoms, but, still she did not succumb, for there was greater beauty ahead.  She beheld a lovely avenue formed of orange trees and red and white oleanders trimmed to a perfect archway.  The winter had been a mild one.  Not only did luscious ripe oranges cling to the trees, but green fruit was forming, and there was, also, a wealth of fragrant blossoms.  The oleanders, too, were coming into bloom.

Beth stopped for a moment to draw in some of the wonderful fragrance that filled the air.  No perfume is more delightful than that of orange blossoms in their native grove.  The fruit, too, looks more tempting on the trees.  The glistening green leaves are just the right setting for the golden yellow balls.  Beth wished to stop and eat some of the fruit, but again she proved firm.  She ran on and on under the shade of the archway that extended a quarter of a mile at the very least.  She ran so fast that her breath shortened and her cheeks flamed.