the way your face is outside, it must be terrible."

"It is. It is." But she did not receive any sympathy. Even Mr.
Davenport laughed at her. He had told her not to have January get
them, but she had insisted on having her own way.

"Beth," he said, "I hope this may teach you a lesson. You must not
taste things that you know nothing about."

Her mouth was still so drawn up that she did not care to do any more
tasting--at least, not for the present. When she thought nobody was
looking, she let the rest of the persimmons roll out of the carriage.

"What do they all do?" asked Beth as the carriage came to a standstill,
and she noted the waiting negroes. As January helped her out, he
chuckled, and swelled visibly with pride. "Dey all work for us, Missy
Beth. She's de boss," he added in a low tone pointing to the colored
woman with the bandanna. "Dat's Maggie; yo'd bettah make up with her."

[Illustration: Maggie, a typical old-time mammy.]

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."