Grace groaned aloud, while old Rachel, the colored cook, who on
all occasions was Edith's champion, removed her hands from the
dough she was kneading and coming towards them, chimed in, "She
ain't fairly got it through her har, Miss Grace. She's such a
substracted way with her that you mostly has to tell her twicet,"
and in her own peculiar style Rachel succeeded in making the
"substracted" child comprehend the nature of her errand.

"Now don't go to blunderin'," was Rachel's parting injunction, as
Edith left the yard and turned in the direction of Collingwood.

It was a mellow September morning, and after leaving the main road
and entering the gate of Collingwood, the young girl lingered by
the way, admiring the beauty of the grounds, and gazing with
feelings of admiration upon the massive building, surrounded by
majestic maples, and basking so quietly in the warm sunlight. At
the marble fountain she paused for a long, long time, talking to
the golden fishes which darted so swiftly past each other, and
wishing she could take them in her hand "just to see them squirm."

"I mean to catch ONE any way," she said, and glancing nervously at
the windows to make sure no Mrs. Richard was watching her, she
bared her round, plump arm, and thrust it into the water, just as
a footstep sounded near.

Quickly withdrawing her hand and gathering up her bouquet, she
turned about and saw approaching her one of Collingwood's ghosts.
She knew him in a moment, for she had heard him described too
often to mistake that white-haired, bent old man for other than