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our cities. There used to be a story that a beautiful picture of Marie Antoinette, supposed to be burned in the Senate Chamber, could be found in one of the old lady's rooms; but I never came to see. As to the rest, Patty, if the war had come as near to Spring Vale, it might have looked very much like this."

"No, indeed!" said Patty, stoutly. "Papa would have nailed up the hinges before ever one came off, and Willie and I would have swept up the dead leaves."

"Not a

Mrs. Gray put her finger on her lip. word to hurt Miss Brittania," said she; "let us see if we cannot be as courteous as these Southern ladies.”

Before mamma could throw the reins to a little colored boy who came round the corner of the house, the door opened, and a lady, dressed in some soft, but coarse black woollen cloth, came forward. Her dress hung close to her figure, and that was commanding. Her hair was plentiful, but streaked with gray; and a loose shawl gave a certain dignity to a dress which was not perfectly whole, and showed, by whitish spots here and there, that the lady who wore it had been in the kitchen.

Patty's quick little eye took this all in in a moment. "Mamma would not have been caught in a dirty gown," she thought to herself, but watched Miss Brittania none the less.

The lady came close to the carriage, and Patty saw that a face once handsome was deeply marked by sorrow, and at this moment stained by tears.

"It is so kind of you, Sophie,” she said, in clear, even tones, seeming to forget all that had passed since they had been girls together.

"I have brought you my little girl, Brittania,” said Mrs. Gray, cheerfully; "and when her little feet are really on the piazza where Washington often sat, I am afraid she will vanish like a skyrocket."

A gleam of pleasure darted out of the fine dark eyes, and Miss Brittania turned to speak to the little girl; but, half in shyness, half in mischief, Patty had slipped out of the wagon on the other side, and stood patting the donkey, impatient for a basket of thistles, which the colored boy had set down just beyond its reach.

The bright eyes commanded her, without a word, and Patty put her hand cordially into

the lady's, and followed her into a wide hall, and then through a glazed door, into a little parlor. There was very little furniture. An old spider-legged piano stood opposite the door, and above it a large picture of a lady and two children, in a dim and very narrow frame.

The lady was seated; her brown hair was rolled back over a cushion, and tied prettily with a ribbon; a few roses nestled in her bosom, and her brocaded dress fell back from a white

satin petticoat. At her feet sat a little girl, with her lap full of roses, and a boy, but very little older, stood on one side, offering his mother a bird, perched upon his wrist. There was a bright flow of silk and satin, flowers and ribbon, in the picture that would have delighted any little girl; but the most wonderful thing about it was, that the children were so like each other and their mother, that it seemed as if the three pictures had been painted from one face.

"Oh!" said Patty, as the lady opened the door, and the winter sun shone on the broad canvas," oh! I thought it was Miss Brittania; but it isn't. I know that picture, mamma; it is Lady Washington - isn't it?"

Miss Brittania and Mrs. Gray looked at each

other.

"The Dandridge look holds well," said Mrs. Gray; but before she could say any more, Patty spoke.

"Is it really yours?" she said, looking up to her mother's friend; "how beautiful it is! But I am glad I did not live then. I would just as lief be starched as wear all that silk and satin, and I could not give thistles to the donkey with all that lace. But what did mamma say Dan

dridge for?"

"That was Lady Washington's name before she married," said the lady; and she turned away from Patty, and asked Mrs. Gray if she would sit on the sofa. "It is rather hard," she said, with a sad smile;

to the hospitals."

"we sent all the cushions

"Was anybody sick you loved?" said Patty, below her breath; for she had never once thought of the Southern ladies as working for the war.

ee

We loved all those who fought for us," the lady said, with gentle dignity; and little Patty flushed a rosy red. She was afraid she had

hurt Miss Brittania, and she turned again to

the picture.

"I guess Mrs. Washington was pretty fashionable," she said to herself, "and I don't believe I'd ever like her."

The last words were spoken almost aloud. Miss Brittania heard them where she sat.

"You are mistaken about that," she said; "you would have liked her very much; all the children did, and the General kept open house for children. My grandmother called Mount Vernon Liliput Castle, because there were so many little people there."

"Thank you," said Patty; and just as she spoke the door opened, and a little girl, only a year or two older than herself, came in. She carried a tray, with some glasses of cold water upon it, and some slices of new gingerbread.

"She had been baking it for us," thought Patty," and I was so mean, I only thought of the flour on her dress."

The lady made no apologies. "We are rather proud of our spring," she said, as the child offered the tray to Mrs. Gray; and then she said, "This is my only daughter. We have no

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