“Yes, Miss Leo, I am in deep waters; up to my chin in trouble, and my heart is dragging me down; for it’s heavier ’an a bushel of lead.  You don’t remember your own ma, do you?”

“I wish I did; but I was only five months old when I lost her.”

“Well, if she was living to-day, she would stretch her two hands and pull me out of muddy waves; and that’s why I have come to you.  You see, Miss Marcia and my young Mistiss, Miss Ellice, was bosom friends, playmates, and like sisters.  They named their dolls after one another, and many a time your ma brought her wax doll to our house, for me to dress it just like Miss Ellice’s, ’cause I was the seamstus in our family, and I always humored the childun about their doll clothes.  They had their candy pullins, and their birthday frolics, and their shetlan’ ponies no bigger ’an dogs, and, oh Lord! what blessed happy times them was!  Now, your ma’s in glory, and you is the richest belle in the State; and my poor young mistiss is in the worst puggatory, the one that comes before death; and her child, her daughter that oughter be living in style at ‘Elm Bluff’, like you are here, where is she?  Where is she?  Flung down among vilyans and mallyfactors, and the very off-scourings of creation, in the penitenchery!  Tears to me like, if old mistiss is as high-headed and proud as she was in this world, her speerit would tear down the walls and set her grandchild free.  When I saw that beautiful young thing beating her white hands agin the iron bars, it went to my heart like a carving knife, and—­”

Dyce burst into tears, and covered her face with her apron, Leo patted her shoulder softly, and essayed to comfort her.

“Don’t cry so bitterly; try to be hopeful.  It is very, very sad, but if she is innocent, her stay in prison will be short.”

“There ain’t no ’ifs’—­when it comes to ‘cusing my mistiss’ child of stealing and murdering.  Suppose the sheriff was to light down here this minute, and grab you up and tell folks ’spectable witnesses swore you broke open your Uncle Mitchell’s safe, and brained him with a handi’on?  Would you think it friendly for people to say, if she didn’t they will soon turn her aloose?  Would that be any warm poultice to your hurt feelin’s?  It’s the stinging shame and the awful, disgrace of being ’spicioned, that you never would forgive.”

“Yes, it is very dreadful, and I pity the poor girl; but it seems that appearances are all against her, and I fear she will find it difficult to explain some circumstances.”

“If your ma was here to-day, she wouldn’t say that.  When she was a friend, she was stone deaf and mole blind to every evil report agin them she loved.  Miss Marcia would go straight to that jail, and put her arms ’round Miss Ellice’s child, and stand by her till her last breath; and the more she was pussecuted, the closer she would stick.  Miss Leo, you must take your ma’s place, you must heir her friendship just like you do her other